Slow Mend
by Annie-chan
Summary: Status: In progress. Hisoka and Tsuzuki attempt to pick up the pieces after the near-disaster in Kyoto, slowly healing their minds and hearts as they pick their way along the path Fate has laid before them. Chapter 22 posted.
1. Pink, White, & Red

**Author's Notes:** Hmm…I should probably start this off with an explanation. A few years ago, I started writing a _Yami no Matsuei_ fanfic called "Wounded Souls". It was gonna be this big elaborate affair weaving together three (or more) plotlines involving Tsuzuki, Hisoka, Tatsumi, Watari, Muraki, and Oriya, and maybe others as the story went on. Thing is, I was stupid and didn't plan far enough ahead, and ended up writing myself into a corner after five chapters, with no idea how to take it from there. I hated abandoning it, but I chose that over driving myself insane trying to continue it and turning out a shoddy excuse for a story. It's sat unfinished for the past three years or so.

Recently, though, I read through what I had written of it, and found I still liked parts of it. The plotline that has the most promise to it, the one involving Tsuzuki and Hisoka, is also my favorite. The one involving Muraki and Oriya was getting more and more forced, and the one with Tatsumi and Watari just didn't have any direction to it at all. I hated to have the Tsuzuki-Hisoka plotline dragged down by the others, so I decided to republish their part of the story, hopefully to finish it this time.

In other words, the first few chapters of this story will be material that I've already posted once, with some changes here and there to make it flow better as a stand-alone, rather than as one part of a multi-plot story. I might use all the TsuSoka scenes I've written so far and continue where I left off, or I might ditch the last few and go in a different direction. I don't know yet. What I do know is this will be much more enjoyable to write than "Wounded Souls" was, 'cause I won't be trying to compose this big complex narrative while only liking a third of it. It's always a plus when you actually _like_ what you're writing.

Sorry for all the chatter, but I wanted to explain things in case anyone wondered why this story seems familiar. I dunno who, if anyone, remembers "Wounded Souls", but I wanted to be on the safe side.

As always, _Yami no Matsuei_ belongs not to me, but to Matsushita Yoko and all other copyright holders. I'm just having some fun with her characters for the time being, and really wish she would either pick up on the manga again or discontinue it, rather than leaving it hanging like it has for years. Argh.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter One: Pink, White, & Red**

A breeze blew gently through the half-open window, and a small bird perched on the windowsill. It peered into the room beyond, its shiny black eyes taking in a quiet, sterile-looking room with several beds. Only one bed was currently occupied, the occupant still and silent.

"Mm…"

A soft, nearly inaudible sound came from the man in the bed, making the bird cock its small head.

Tsuzuki Asato's eyelashes fluttered as wakefulness returned to him. Intensely violet eyes slowly opened, and the first thing he saw was the white-tiled ceiling. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was or what had happened before he had fallen asleep, but his memory came back to him in a matter of seconds. Turning his head, he looked toward the window, finding it open a little bit. A small white bird perched on the sill, looking at him. He smiled, watching it watch him.

"Hello there," he said softly, as if the bird could understand him. Indeed, in Meifu, perhaps the birds could understand human speech. This mirror world was so much like Earth, yet so different all the same.

The bird cheeped.

Tsuzuki sat up slowly, hoping not to startle the fragile creature. He didn't want it to leave so soon.

To his dismay, however, more birds flew by the window, chirping loudly. The one looking at him leapt off the sill without hesitating, joining its flock-mates as they sped away.

"Wait—!" Tsuzuki started to call, but stopped. He wouldn't get the bird to come back by shouting after it. Sighing softly, he looked over to the bed next to him. "Hisoka…?"

Kurosaki Hisoka's bed lay empty, the covers turned up neatly, yet not perfectly made. It appeared he had only temporarily left. His name was still at the head of the bed, so he was still checked into the infirmary. Where he was precisely at this moment, however, was unknown.

Tsuzuki propped his pillow up behind him and leaned back against it. Tatsumi Seiichirou had been in here last, as he recalled. His former partner had told him what had happened in Kyoto, and was hard-pressed to say some of it. He had resigned himself to letting Tsuzuki die, realizing that that was what Tsuzuki had summoned Touda for. He would not interfere with his friend's wishes, no matter how much he wanted to. Hisoka had been gradually losing his composure, buffeted by the volatile emotions coming from those around him, mixing violently with his own growing desperation. Watari Yutaka had held back at first, seemingly at a loss for what to do.

It had been Watari who had broken Tatsumi out of his resignation. The bespectacled engineer had flown into a rage at the secretary once he had realized Tatsumi's intentions, furiously demanding why Tatsumi would allow his closest friend to destroy himself, why he would tolerate that same friend succumbing to the manipulations of a madman, why he would give up so easily when this was the time Tsuzuki needed their help most. Hisoka had had to physically restrain the normally agreeable Watari, who may well have hurt Tatsumi if he had been allowed to. It was likely that Watari's angry outburst had only added onto the strain Hisoka's empathy was already putting on him, but he managed to weather it until the scientist had calmed down again.

Tsuzuki himself didn't remember much aside from the burning heat. Touda's flames were powerful enough to threaten even Sohryu, the almighty Water Dragon, lord of the shikigami who dwelt in Gensoukai. He would surely be able to destroy a single shinigami, and that's what Tsuzuki had wanted. He didn't want to simply pass over into the afterlife, joining the souls of those who died normally. He wanted his spirit completely annihilated. Oblivion seemed to be the only way he could escape the torment he was suffering, so oblivion was what he sought.

There were a few minutes that he remembered very clearly, however. Hisoka's frantic voice calling Tsuzuki's name through the chaos, a small figure materializing on the edge of his vision. The boy's slight frame had appeared to waver in the intense heat, and though the flames roared around him, he still managed to hear Hisoka's voice. He was calling Tsuzuki to come to him, that he could get them both out of there. When Tsuzuki did not respond, Hisoka pressed forward, determined to get to his partner despite the raging inferno pressing in on all sides.

Tsuzuki had smiled, silent tears flowing from his eyes. He had said that it was okay, that Hisoka needn't trouble himself. He wanted to die, he wanted nothingness. He had thought that that would deter Hisoka, that he would back off and leave Tsuzuki to his chosen fate. He didn't expect the younger shinigami to surge forward, throwing himself against Tsuzuki, gripping him so tightly that the world may have ended had he let go.

The boy had been hysterical, sobbing his words into Tsuzuki's chest. How could Tsuzuki leave him like this? Didn't he know how much Tsuzuki meant to him? How much he meant to everyone? If Tsuzuki was to die in Touda's flames, then Hisoka would die with him. He was adamant that the two of them stay together, wherever they may go.

Tsuzuki's tattered heart had trembled at the tearful confession, and he had clutched at Hisoka just as tightly, feeling the boy convulse with every ragged breath. Dread and regret welled up in his chest, choking him. It was too late, wasn't it? He would die as he had intended, but Hisoka was giving his life as well. That's not what he wanted, that's not what he meant to happen—

His memory had gone blank after that. The next thing he knew was waking up here in this bed with Watari standing over him and Hisoka reading one bed over. Tatsumi had explained that he had cast a shadow vacuum over the two of them, the most powerful barrier a kagetsukai could summon, making them invulnerable to Touda's fire long enough for Tatsumi and Watari to get them out of there. If they had simply been left there, Touda's power would have overwhelmed them in a matter of minutes, breaking through the shadows like paper.

Tatsumi had come near to tears as he told all this to Tsuzuki. It seemed he couldn't forgive himself for even entertaining the thought of letting Tsuzuki take his own life. He had once loved Tsuzuki deeply, and now watched over him protectively, and standing back while Tsuzuki collapsed in upon himself was a terrible sin in the secretary's eyes. It betrayed the promise Tatsumi had made to himself to keep Tsuzuki safe. Tatsumi had honestly felt that he wasn't worthy of Tsuzuki's respect and friendship anymore, or anyone else's either. What kind of man abandoned his friends when they were at their most desperate?

Tsuzuki, however, had not seen it that way. He had explained that he understood Tatsumi's feelings, but he was happy that Tatsumi had saved him and Hisoka in the end. That was all that mattered, and Tatsumi deserved his thanks, not his scorn. He had embraced the older man, and thought he felt the tenseness drain slowly out of Tatsumi's frame.

His former partner had left soon after that, telling Tsuzuki that he was still recovering from his ordeal, and that he needed to rest some more. Tsuzuki had lain down as Tatsumi exited, and the warm quietness of the infirmary had soon lulled him back to sleep. He couldn't remember if he had dreamed or not, for the next thing he knew was staring up at the white ceiling above his bed.

Standing up, he adjusted the light robe he was wearing, straightening it out and tightening the belt holding it closed, the fabric having become slightly skewed as he slept. Stepping into the slippers set beside his bed, he walked out of the infirmary. He was not nearly unwell enough for orders not to leave, and he had already been outside this room since returning from Kyoto. Hisoka's absence made him curious, and he wanted to find the smaller shinigami.

He wandered the halls for a little bit, no particular destination in mind. This was a quieter wing of Enmachou, so he met few people.

_Hisoka likes quiet places_, he thought, smiling softly at the image of Hisoka curled up in a corner of the library with a book. _Places where he doesn't have others' emotions constantly pounding into him. Places where he can be alone._

Places like a sakura garden.

Tsuzuki stopped as he neared a doorway leading outside. Through the narrow window set in the door, he could see the perpetually pink and white branches of the sakura trees that surrounded the large building. When Hisoka needed quiet time, he often went either into the gardens or the library. Though not an empath, as a shinigami Tsuzuki could feel the presence of his peers. It was like he could "see" a shadow of them in his mind's eye when they were near. Pushing open the door to the sakura garden, he could just barely feel another shinigami in the distance. Tsuzuki followed that faint feeling, and eventually saw a familiar shape under the gently swaying branches.

There was Hisoka, barefoot and apparently relaxed, his face turned up to the sky as the breeze played with his hair. Tsuzuki smiled. It was rare to see his partner like this.

"If you stay out here too long, you could catch a cold," he said, announcing his presence. He knew, though, that Hisoka could feel him long before he came close. The mind can never be completely quiet, and the boy could sense others' emotions as strongly as his own.

Hisoka turned his gaze to his taller partner, but didn't immediately respond.

"What are you doing out here, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki said with a gentle smile, trying to encourage conversation but not wanting to seem pushy. Hisoka was also recovering from what happened in Kyoto. Not only had he fought through Touda's flames to reach Tsuzuki, but he had taken part in a duel against an associate of Muraki's for the keycard that gave access to the underground lab. Tatsumi had told him that Hisoka had suffered many grievous wounds in that conflict, any one of which surely fatal to a living human. Tsuzuki was touched by the determination Hisoka had shown for his sake, though he had not been there to witness it. Like Tsuzuki, Hisoka's wounds had closed, but his body was still weakened and vulnerable. Neither of them would be given any strenuous assignments at work for a few weeks.

Hisoka merely looked at him for a moment, as if weighing his answer.

"Did you listen to Tatsumi-san about what happened in Muraki's lab?" he finally said, sidestepping Tsuzuki's question with one of his own.

Tsuzuki blinked. "Uh…yeah," he answered after a second. "But I don't care that he—"

"Did he tell you?" Hisoka interrupted, a strangely ominous look in his eyes. "He's still alive. Someone—or something—got him out of that sea of flames before he could die."

Tsuzuki stared at him for several seconds, speechless. "What…?!" he finally managed, a sick feeling washing over him. Just the thought of that man's survival was like getting kicked in the solar plexus.

"As Tatsumi-san's shadows surrounded us," Hisoka explained calmly, apparently having already had time to digest this information, "I felt it, and then I saw it. A strange, otherworldly light was overtaking his body, making it near impossible to see him. I couldn't tell if he was alive or dead at that point." He raised his right arm as he spoke and pulled his sleeve down to his elbow, revealing a writhing pattern of bright red lines seemingly burned into his skin. "But a little while ago, I noticed that these still hadn't gone away."

Tsuzuki's eyes widened as Hisoka showed him the strange marks. "Wha…what are those?!" He had never seen them before, but the mere sight of them filled him with dread. He knew Hisoka still suffered from what Muraki had done to him, but what was this he was seeing? "Hisoka?!"

"They are the marks Muraki put on me as his claim upon my body," Hisoka answered, still calm as he pushed his sleeve back down. "As long as he's alive, they'll remain." He paused for a moment, his expression pensive. "I'm all right with this, though."

Tsuzuki didn't respond. He didn't know _how_ to respond. The thought of Hisoka being all right with Muraki's continued existence was enough to strike him completely dumb.

"With him still alive, I have something to strive for," Hisoka continued, answering Tsuzuki's unspoken question. He turned to look at his partner. "I became a shinigami to find out who killed me, and I stayed a shinigami so I could pursue him. I still have my purpose; I still have a target to shoot for. For as long as he lives, I will never stop hunting him!" There was a fire burning deep in his emerald eyes, and Tsuzuki recognized it as the strength of his determination. He would stop at nothing to ensure that what happened to him happened to no one else.

A soft smile crept across Tsuzuki's lips once more. "I understand," he said, "and I'll help you. You don't have to do it alone, Hisoka. We can do it together."

Hisoka watched him for a moment, then looked back up to the sky. He didn't say anything, but Tsuzuki thought he saw a smile briefly cross Hisoka's face. Though he didn't say it out loud, Tsuzuki knew he accepted his help, his partnership, and maybe his friendship. A warm feeling stirred in his chest at the thought.

"Do you want to go inside now, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka asked after several minutes of silence.

"Hm?" Tsuzuki said. "Oh, yes, if you want."

"Come on, then," Hisoka nodded, turning to go back inside. Tsuzuki let Hisoka lead the way, neither of them speaking. Despite the assertions they had just made to each other, this was still a time of instability for both of them. They knew what they wanted to do, but they were still recovering from the recent fiasco in Kyoto, both physically and mentally. It was unlikely that either of them would be pursuing Muraki anytime soon.

"Why don't you go back to bed, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka said once they were nearing the infirmary once again.

Tsuzuki nodded slowly. "I do feel a little tired. That's the first time I've been out in the open air since…well…" He trailed off. His thoughts shied away from when Ikaruga Mariko had been killed by Suzaku, the shikigami acting independently from him in his defense. It was the last clear memory before the haze of his time in Muraki's lab, but he didn't want to relive the shock, betrayal, anger, and sadness that had assailed him as the girl succumbed to the Phoenix's flames. He had hated Suzaku with a passion born of abject rage in that instant, and it was something he didn't ever want to experience again.

"Go on, then," Hisoka said, not pressing the matter. "You need as much rest as you can get right now. You took more damage than me, and Touda's power is the most unforgiving I've ever felt." When he had seen Tsuzuki kneeling in the wreckage of Muraki's lab, reaching up to the Fire Serpent, he had been shaken to his core. The fires raging around them were not physical flames, but a power than could assail even the immortal soul, perhaps strong enough to even destroy it. The thought of losing Tsuzuki to total oblivion, making it impossible to reunite even if Hisoka crossed over into the afterlife, had been the worst fear he had known in his life.

"Where are you going, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked.

"To the library," Hisoka replied.

Tsuzuki chuckled. "I can never keep you away from your books, can I?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Hisoka's lips. "No, not really. I want to ask the Gushoushin about books on curses and hexes, though. There is no cure for this," he lightly touched his arm, "that I know of, but I want to learn about it. Maybe I can…suppress it somehow."

"I understand," Tsuzuki nodded. Reaching out to the smaller shinigami, he placed a hand on Hisoka's shoulder. He felt Hisoka flinch slightly at the touch, the contact intensifying his reception of Tsuzuki's emotions, yet he did not pull away. He wanted Hisoka to know he was sincere. "If you ever need anyone to talk to about it, about anything, you can come to me. I will listen to anything you have to say. Remember that."

Hisoka looked into his face, meeting his eyes. It wasn't often Hisoka made eye contact, as if that too increased his empathy. Tsuzuki couldn't read what he saw swirling in Hisoka's eyes, but he just smiled at the boy. He somehow knew that there was nothing he needed to worry about in what he saw. Instead, he hoped Hisoka saw truthfulness in his own eyes. The last thing he needed was for his partner to doubt him.

Finally, Hisoka lowered his eyes. "I'll remember that, Tsuzuki. Thank you." He seemed to hesitate a second or two, but then pulled away from the taller man's touch, turning in the direction of the library. He glanced back once as he moved away, as if checking to see if Tsuzuki was all right.

Tsuzuki watched him until he turned a corner. The boy was warm, and he could feel that gentle heat through his shirt. He wasn't sure why he noted that fact. Shinigami were technically dead, but the higher-ups wanted them to blend in with living humans to allow them to conduct investigations without drawing attention to themselves. Body heat was essential to this. Why Hisoka's warmth was a thing for noticing this time wasn't something Tsuzuki could explain.

Shrugging lightly to himself, he turned and made his way back to the infirmary. He had told Hisoka he would rest up, and he didn't want to disappoint his younger partner.

A smile returned to his lips as he walked. Despite the trauma of less than a day ago, despite the shock of learning of Muraki's survival, things were looking up. He felt genuinely happy, and it had been far too long since that feeling had made itself known to him. He had his friends, he had his partner, and he had a clear path set in front of him.

_Hisoka_, he thought, green eyes and honey-blond hair flashing through his thoughts. _Thank you for caring about me._

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** First chapter done. Before we go any further, I should probably mention that this is best considered an anime fic. I'm not taking into consideration any of the manga events after the Kyoto arc, as doing so would complicate my idea for this story immeasurably. So you can call this an anime fic or an alternate storyline. Your choice.

The conversation in the sakura garden is more or less like it is in canon. It's mainly my amateur translation of the Japanese manga I have—I haven't read the English manga—with some changes/additions here and there to make it flow better. Translating manga or comic dialogue directly into prose usually doesn't turn out the best results, so I helped it along a little. I hope I did a good job.

Anyway, I'm planning on updating this semi-regularly, at least until I've adapted and posted all that I've written so far. After that is anyone's guess. There's a book I want to write, and that will probably take up much of my writing time and energy, if not all of it. So, I ask for your patience. Lord knows, if you've followed my stories before, you know that you'll need it.

Please leave a review. Reviews are my antidrug.


	2. Remembering

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Two: Remembering**

"Hisoka-san."

The young shinigami looked up from the stack of books he had been staring at. The older Gushoushin hovered by him, another large book in his feathered hands.

"Here's the book you asked us to find," the little chicken-like spirit announced, holding the book forward.

"Thank you," Hisoka nodded, taking the proffered book. He set it on the table he was sitting at and opened it as the Gushoushin moved away, going back to his business.

Sighing, Hisoka flipped to the table of contents. He had lost count a while ago of how many books he had opened today, looking for the curse Muraki had placed on him. The library at Enmachou had a whole section for books on curses and hexes, ranging from practical jokes to deadly inflictions, from the different areas in Japan to all corners of the globe. At first he had been intimidated as he looked at the packed shelves in the section he had been shown to. He didn't know where to start, and with his luck, he'd be in here for days just looking for the right _type_ of curse. After thinking a moment, however, he surmised that it was most likely a Japanese or Chinese curse, as the markings on his chest and back resembled ancient Chinese pictographs. Most of the section was devoted to Japanese and Chinese curses, however, as they were the ones most encountered at Enmachou. It wasn't often a foreign curse showed up, and when that did happen, agents from the country it came from, that country's equivalent to shinigami, were often not far behind, following it from their own land.

He loved to read, and he often spent his free time here in the library, but he was getting frustrated. So many of the books he had looked into so far hadn't had even a reference to what he was looking for. Anything about a curse that left marks on the skin, or caused lingering death, or inflicted terrible pain always pointed in some other direction further down the line. In the few years he had worked as a shinigami, he had never heard of another case of a curse like his, even though he periodically checked the records for such things. It seemed to be a rare curse, and the lack of information on it indicated that it was very much so.

_Maybe…maybe it's a creation of Muraki's…?_ Hisoka wondered silently. _If so, would it even be in these books?_ A second after wondering that, he remembered that the books in this library basically wrote themselves. If a new curse or spell was devised, it was added to the archive as if it had always been there, complete with its creator, how to cast it, and its counter. Even if Muraki had created it, and Hisoka was its solitary victim, it would be here somewhere in these books. He just had to find it.

Hisoka scanned the list of chapters in the table of contents, stopping suddenly when he came to the end. At the very back of the book was a very short chapter, not even fifteen pages long. In this 500-plus-page book, that was short indeed. It's title, "Curses Inflicted Upon the Mind, Body, and/or Spirit Through Sexual Contact", sent a jolt through him. He hadn't seen anything about sexually-vectored curses in any of the other books, and the shortness of the chapter indicated that it was a very uncommon way to curse someone. However, the very fact that Muraki had raped him the same night as cursed him, Hisoka couldn't rule out the possibility that this was the method used.

Fingers trembling slightly, Hisoka turned to the back of the book. On the first page of the chapter was a list of the curses described therein. Apparently, there were as little as five such curses in the whole of Japan. Hisoka thought with a grimace that he wouldn't be surprised if Muraki knew every single one of them. The sensuality which he weaved into almost everything he did gave Hisoka the impression that sex underlined a great deal of Muraki's thoughts. The way he invaded people's space, touching and petting them if the opportunity arose, made Hisoka shudder. He felt a rush of anger at the thought that Tsuzuki was a primary recipient of that kind of attention from Muraki, but he pushed that thought away. That didn't concern him at the moment.

The first two curses in the chapter were not his, but when he turned the page to the third, his heart skipped a beat. Right there on the page was a color diagram of curse marks exactly like his, the red of the ink searing into his retinas. A sudden tightness constricted his chest, excitement and apprehension mingling freely under his ribs. He had found what he was looking for…! So why was he so nervous now? He should be relieved he didn't have to search anymore, right?

He knew deep down, though, that part of him was afraid of learning the specifics of his ailment. What if the book said that it was incurable and couldn't be suppressed? That would be worse than not knowing, as his ignorance at least allowed him some hope that he could somehow beat it down, if not outright conquer it.

Swallowing, he started slowly to read.

It took him twenty minutes to get through the article. After finishing, he stared at the last word for several minutes before slowly closing the book and setting it back on the tabletop. Placing his elbows on the table, he clasped his hands together in front of his face and leaned his forehead on them, deep in thought.

Only a sadist would use such a curse; only someone so thoroughly depraved that they found pleasure in the pain and suffering of others would even dare to inflict it upon someone. Its primary purpose was not to kill, but to torment, wracking the victim's body with pain so great that they couldn't even scream or cry. The victim's death was merely the end result of the curse's sapping of the body, drawing out their life-force and funneling it back to the caster. A side-effect, more or less. Muraki could have sucked him dry the night they met, as he did with most of his victims, but he chose this slower, drawn-out method. He had said upon their reunion that he hadn't thought a quick death to suit Hisoka, and that a lovely boy like him deserved something more. _A beautiful death_, he called it. That alone attested to the sickness eating at Muraki's mind and soul.

Hisoka shuddered as memories crawled unbidden to the surface. Muraki had violated him in just about every way a thirteen-year-old boy could be that night, all the while keeping a firm hold on Hisoka's consciousness, forbidding him to withdraw into his own mind to escape what was happening to him. He had made sure that Hisoka felt in stark detail every brutality upon his young body, a grin spreading across his pale face as his prey whimpered and begged and screamed for mercy.

The final outrage, the worst insult, was that his own body had betrayed him. Muraki had succeeded in coaxing Hisoka's body into responding, using his skilled touch to forcibly arouse the boy. The maddening caresses of his lips and tongue upon Hisoka's most sensitive flesh had momentarily changed the nature of their encounter, turning Hisoka's screams of pain and terror into moans of pleasure. The scene under the sakura tree had changed briefly from cruel rape to the wicked embrace of two lovers.

Muraki had taken Hisoka to orgasm, milking the thirteen-year-old of his essence, the gasping shriek of ecstasy ringing shrilly throughout the deserted grounds. The warm glow of release had lingered only briefly before it was viciously shattered, the agony of Muraki forcing himself into the boy's small body exploding upon him mercilessly.

Hisoka burned with shame at the memories, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched as he trembled. Muraki had given him his first—and so far only—sexual pleasure. For a fleeting moment, Hisoka had willingly submitted the man attacking him, and that was more of a humiliation than anything else that had happened that night.

It was several moments before Hisoka could compose himself and swing his thoughts back to the curse he had just read about.

The curse had indeed been cast on him during the rape. The caster gathered the power for it from his arousal and the ensuing intercourse, and the level of power accumulated was directly related to the forcefulness of the act. Ejaculation into the victim's body was the moment the curse was fully formed and cast, the red marks appearing on the victim's outside as semen invaded their inside, the assailant claiming their body two ways simultaneously. Clearly, this was not a curse a woman could use.

The marks had two purposes, as did the pain that accompanied them. The first was the carrying out of the curse's intention, sucking the life-force out of the victim and channeling it to the caster. Normally, they were not visible to those without the sight for such things, but they manifested as burning red lines when the caster willed them to appear, dramatically increasing the discomfort they caused the victim and speeding the extraction of their energy. Strong emotions or thoughts centering on the caster could also make them surface, as Hisoka had discovered. Muraki had never felt any need to speed Hisoka's death, and Hisoka had had no memory of Muraki until after he died, so the only time the marks had been visible while he was still alive had been at the moment Muraki had seared them into his skin. Hisoka had seen them for the first time after his death, when his memories had been unsealed.

The second reason for the marks' existence and the pain they caused was a testament to the sadistic possessiveness that had played a part in this curse's development. It was simply a reminder to the victim of who their master was, who had control over their fate. Surely, all victims of this curse would die from it eventually, but how quickly and how painful that death ended up being was entirely at the caster's discretion. Hisoka wasn't surprised in the least that Muraki would use such an atrocity, for he knew all too well Muraki's love of control over others. Calling Hisoka "his doll" and insisting that Tsuzuki would someday belong to him was proof of that.

What grabbed his attention the most, however, was the role emotions played in this. Hate was one of the most powerful emotions in existence, and rape was the vilest, most hateful act a human being can inflict upon another. Muraki had hated Hisoka for his perceived innocence, knowing nothing of the suffering the boy had already endured, and this instigated the use of the curse. Hisoka in turn hated Muraki for what he had done to him, and that only strengthened the bond between them, the link through which Muraki fed off him. This bond made them very sensitive to each other, and Hisoka's empathy was increased many times when it came to Muraki's emotions. Hisoka had been unaware of the bond before his memories had been unsealed, and Muraki hadn't felt any desire to assert it—indeed, didn't even expect to meet the boy again—so it had only recently become as strong as it was now. Hisoka smiled ruefully at that thought.

The last paragraph of the article before the summary said simply that there was no known definitive method for combating this curse, only the victims' individual strength of character and spirit determining how well they could suppress it. If Hisoka was strong enough, he could push it to the side for the most part. Hisoka supposed that he had accomplished this already, as he was capable of functioning more or less normally, but it was always in the back of his mind, always threatening to overtake him if he let his guard down. Now, this book tells him that he would have to live with this until Muraki died, his death undoing the things wrought with his power. Hisoka supposed crossing over into the afterlife would have the same effect, but he wasn't ready to do that yet. He still had things to accomplish with this pseudo-life he had been given as a shinigami.

Sighing, he stood up, gathering the books up to deposit on a shelving cart. He wasn't sure how long he had mulled over what he had learned, but he supposed that it was time to go back to the infirmary. He was still on the patient list, after all.

_If hate is such a big part of the curse's impact, would hate's opposite have any effect in countering it?_ he wondered idly. Almost as soon as he thought it, though, he shook his head, scowling. _It would have been in the article if it did. Besides, you have no one to love you, anyway._

Hisoka stopped short as purple eyes suddenly flashed across his mind, his own eyes going wide in surprise. The vision was gone in an instant, however, and Hisoka shook his head again as if to clear it. He had enough stuff on his mind right now without including things like…like that.

Setting the books on a cart and thanking the Gushoushin for their help, Hisoka exited the library and turned in the direction of the infirmary, slipping back into his thoughts, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets as he walked.

_So, my degeneration was the curse sucking the life out of me and transferring it to Muraki. It should have ended upon my death, but it's still there. My becoming a shinigami must have enabled it to continue on past the end of my life._ He felt a surge of anger as he realized that even now the curse was feeding his energy to Muraki, and had been for the past few years since his death. The rate of transfer was gradual enough that the shinigami ability of accelerated healing replenished the energy it stole almost immediately. Though it had endlessly tormented him in life, he was virtually unaware of its effects now, save when the marks manifested. Muraki had tapped into a limited supply at first, but now had access to the nigh on boundless reserves of a shinigami. Since Hisoka's death, his sorcery and recovering abilities had only gotten stronger than before.

That meant that the energy feed from Hisoka was even now aiding Muraki in healing from the disaster in his underground lab. That plus Muraki's own formidable healing abilities meant that it would only be a short time before the pale doctor was completely recovered. Hell, he might be completely recovered already.

"Fuck!" Hisoka burst out, slamming his fist into the wall, furious at the realization. He was inadvertently helping the recovery of the one man above all others that he wanted dead, and there was nothing he could do to halt it. Muraki was likely capable of healing a stab wound and whatever injuries he received from Touda by himself over time, but he had Hisoka helping him the whole way, speeding the process. The thought of it was enough to make Hisoka want to scream right there in the hallway.

He stood there for several moments, his aching fist trembling against the wall, mentally dredging up every method of bloody vengeance he wanted to inflict upon Muraki. All at the same time.

Eventually, however, he managed to pull himself together. There was nothing he could do about it right now, and he was still not completely recovered from what happened in Kyoto. He needed rest, and he knew Tsuzuki would be worried if he saw Hisoka was being bothered by something. He always was, and Hisoka didn't want to feel his partner's distress over his wellbeing right now. Tsuzuki had enough things to worry about without troubling himself over a sullen, gloomy teenager of a partner. He continued on toward the infirmary.

He reached his destination without meeting anybody—or at least he didn't notice meeting anybody—his head down in thought as he walked. Sliding the infirmary door open, he was greeted by a quiet room, only a single person inside.

Tsuzuki was asleep.

Hisoka entered and closed the door quietly, thankful that Tsuzuki was not awake. He knew that, had he been awake, he would have noticed Hisoka's dismal demeanor immediately. Hisoka had no desire to be peppered with questions, however well-meaning, about why he looked so depressed. What he had learned in the library was not something he cared to discuss with anybody at the moment, even Tsuzuki. Especially Tsuzuki.

Walking over to the bed assigned to him, he removed his shoes and placed them by the wall. Before he got into bed, however, he looked over at his partner, lying in the bed next to his. Tsuzuki's emotions were muted, neutral. He didn't appear to be dreaming at all. A small smile crossed Hisoka's lips at that; he had been worried that Tsuzuki's sleep would be broken by nightmares of what had happened in Kyoto. Certainly, what had gone down in the underground lab was enough to give anyone nightmares. He was glad to see that Tsuzuki appeared to be avoiding them.

Drawing closer, he looked down fully into Tsuzuki's face. Things had been so different only a day before. From the heart of Touda's inferno, Tsuzuki's emotions had slammed hard into Hisoka, ruthless and unforgiving. It almost felt like Tsuzuki had been attacking him. Tatsumi, Watari, and Muraki only added to the pressure, consumed by their own personal crises. He had never felt anything like it before, and he had no idea how he had kept from collapsing under the strain. He supposed that his determination to get Tsuzuki out of the flames and maybe knock some sense into him was the only thing that had kept him on his feet.

Sadness had fallen over him, heavy and suffocating. Sadness, anger, and a feeling of hopelessness so powerful that tears had pricked Hisoka's eyes when it hit him. Tsuzuki's emotions had nearly overwhelmed his own, and Hisoka had wavered for a moment, suddenly sharing Tsuzuki's need for oblivion and nothingness. Watari's uncharacteristic burst of rage was what had broken him out of it and allowed him to remember why he was there.

Sadness had again overtaken him when Tsuzuki told him to leave him to his fate, but it was his own this time, not his partner's. It was as if a chasm suddenly yawned before him, an emptiness opening up where something important had once been. Fear and horror had quickly joined in, spurring him into unthinking action. He didn't remember throwing himself against his partner. The next thing he was aware of was being wrapped around the older man, sobbing hysterically into his chest. He couldn't control his tears as they streamed down his face. The closeness of their embrace increased his awareness of Tsuzuki's volatile emotions several times, and he had almost fainted from the intensity of them mixing with his own.

Darkness had shrouded them, and he looked up, one last shock lancing through him as he saw Muraki enveloped in that strange light. Tatsumi's shadows had then closed over them completely, and his memories went blank.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a bed in the Enmachou infirmary, Watari leaning over him and asking if he was okay. Tsuzuki had still been asleep, and had remained so for a few hours after Hisoka's awakening. To pass the time, he had asked the Gushoushin to bring him some books, and had settled down to read until Tsuzuki regained consciousness.

"Tsuzuki…" he muttered, sighing softly. What he had felt emanating from Tsuzuki that night in Kyoto had been a confusing mass of unidentifiable emotions, but when they had held each other, a single specific feeling became discernable. Frighteningly so. A desperate need had started throbbing loudly over the rest of it, and Hisoka felt as if that need were directed solely at him. It was as if Tsuzuki wanted comfort and compassion, but not from just anyone. Hisoka himself was the only one capable of giving the older shinigami what he really needed. Or so it seemed to the young empath.

Though it had surprised and frightened him, Hisoka had felt his own emotions responding. The deep wounds scarring his soul had started aching as if freshly inflicted, making his heart tremble. His stubborn determination to forget his past, to leave it all behind him, had allowed him to all but forget they were there, but Tsuzuki's unspoken pleading had opened them anew. Hisoka was lonely, depressed, starved for affection…he needed _someone_ to bandage those wounds for him, allow them to truly heal instead of festering under a façade of wholeness. He had clung ever tighter to Tsuzuki, praying that the maelstrom of their combined suffering wouldn't scour away his very sanity.

Sighing again, Hisoka backed away and sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the floor. He knew Tsuzuki cared for him, had known it for a long time. Despite the pain he had been put through by people who should have loved and supported him, the violet-eyed shinigami found it in his heart to be open and friendly with anyone and everyone, determined to hold every person he met in the best light that he could. Letdowns and disappointment had plagued him for much of his career as a shinigami, as every partner between Tatsumi and Hisoka had left him in the lurch for one reason or another, but he hadn't let it tarnish the warm kindness he extended to those around him. Hisoka had never encountered anyone like that before, and was deeply touched. It had been the first time in his life—funny that it should happen after his death—that he had felt welcome somewhere, accepted for who he was.

Propping his feet up on the bed frame, Hisoka braced his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. _But those feelings I felt coming from him in Kyoto_ _when we held each other…that wasn't just a need for friendship. It was a need for—_

He broke his thoughts off abruptly, shaking his head vigorously to clear it. He was _not_ going to go there. He wasn't ready for something like that. Not in the slightest.

_But what about _my _feelings, then?_ his mind went on. _I needed someone in that moment just as much as he did._

Hisoka sat rigidly for the next several minutes, shoulders hunched forward and hands balled into fists, refusing to even think. When he finally relaxed again, he sighed a third time, looking back at Tsuzuki.

"We can't rush into this, Tsuzuki Asato," he said softly, mindful not to wake the man he was addressing. "Whatever we want from each other, wherever we may end up, we have to take it slow. There are just too many demons in our pasts, and we have to face them and conquer them first. Anything between us would only go sour if they were constantly looking over our shoulders."

Tsuzuki stirred, his head turning slightly in Hisoka's direction, but he did not wake. Hisoka watched him for a few more minutes, then turned and drew his feet up onto the bed. He was tired. The walk in the sakura garden this morning and the long researching period in the library had worn him out, and his still healing spirit was crying out for him to rest. His body was whole again, but he didn't yet have the level of energy that was normally his.

Sliding down between the sheets, Hisoka lay on his side, looking toward his taller partner. That warm, encouraging smile that had crossed Tsuzuki's lips when promising his aid in pursuing Muraki played across his mind's eye. That had to have been the single most touching expression Tsuzuki had ever offered the green-eyed boy.

It wasn't long before the warmth and quietness of the room stole Hisoka's consciousness away, and he joined his dark-haired partner in sleep.

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Blarg. No reviews on the first chapter. That makes me sad.

Anyway, hope you all liked chapter two. I'm still not sure entirely which direction I'll take the story once I start writing new material for it, but I have some ideas. I guess I'll just go with what feels right when I get to that point.

Until next time, ja mata.


	3. Cheese & Crackers

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Much thanks to LillianeDeMalvrier, Wistaire, and Meyham for reading and reviewing chapter two!

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Three: Cheese & Crackers**

"What a beautiful day..."

Tsuzuki smiled as a sakura petal brushed his nose as it floated to the ground. Violet eyes were turned up toward the pink and white branches of the trees around him, watching the slow shower of petals flutter in the wind. He could hear birds singing in the branches, and idly wondered if the little white bird he had seen on the windowsill of the infirmary was among them.

He was sitting in a picnic area outside the Enmachou compound, quietly enjoying the fair weather. He and Hisoka had clocked out of work a while ago, and they had the rest of the day off. Tsuzuki was using his free time to relax, as usual.

"Tsuzuki!" he heard a voice call, the sound scattered by the breeze. He wasn't expecting any visitors, but he recognized the voice immediately. Bringing his eyes down from the sakura trees, he trained his gaze on a white-coated figure walking through the swirling petals, a few getting stuck in his strawberry-blond hair.

"Oi, Watari!" he smiled, happy to see his friend. His smile stretched wider as he spied 003, the tiny owl being tossed about by the wind. As small as she was, she was having trouble flying against the brisk gusts swaying the trees around them. Tsuzuki sniggered as Watari finally turned around, caught the flailing bird as she veered off course, and tucked her safely into his lab coat pocket. There, she settled in, and Tsuzuki could have sworn he saw a self-satisfied grin on her delicate beak.

"You looked lonely out here, Tsuzuki," Watari said, grinning his easy smile, "so I brought something for us to share." With that, he plopped a brown paper bag in front of the older shinigami, something Tsuzuki hadn't noticed him carrying until now.

"Ah!" Tsuzuki squeaked, instantly perking up as he peered into the sack. "Watari-chan, you're so nice to me!" Inside were two frosted cinnamon buns, their white glaze glistening in the sunlight.

"Oh, good," Watari replied, grinning even wider. "You're happy, then?" In truth, he had no doubt that Tsuzuki would like what he brought. The purple-eyed shinigami liked just about anything sweet or sugary, after all.

Tsuzuki nodded enthusiastically, and Watari could almost see him sprout furry ears and a tail. Tsuzuki had a peculiar habit of looking like a happy little puppy-dog when he was especially glad about something. Watari remembered Hisoka once telling that to Tsuzuki, and chuckled at the memory of the bemused look on Tsuzuki's face.

"So," he said as he sat down on the other side of the picnic table, 003 still nestled in his pocket, "how's Bon been doing? Recovering all right?"

"Oh, yes," Tsuzuki nodded, handing one of the buns to Watari. The engineer was half surprised his friend didn't try to keep them both for himself. "In fact," Tsuzuki continued around a sticky mouthful, "he was back to work in about half the time as me. He must have been bored waiting for me to get up to par." He smiled a bit self-consciously after swallowing.

"Nah," Watari said, shaking his head. "You being laid up longer than he was gave him the opportunity to catch up on your guys' paperwork without you interfering."

"Heeeeey..." Tsuzuki pouted. "I'm not _that_ bad."

Watari shrugged, suppressing another grin. "Where's he gone to today, by the way? I haven't seen him for a few hours, at least."

"I don't know exactly _where_ he is," Tsuzuki said, glancing around as if to spot him, "but I know he's out practicing the fuda magic I've been teaching him. He really does want to get good at it. I explained to him that it took me years to get to the point I'm at, even with my affinity for magic, but he won't let that discourage him."

"That's good," Watari nodded. "A skill like that takes a lot of practice and determination to get good at, not to mention master."

"Yeah, well..." Tsuzuki frowned slightly, looking down at his half-eaten cinnamon bun. "To tell you the truth...he's making progress on the technical stuff. Y'know, the _how_ of it. He's just not really getting the _why_ of it."

"What do you mean?" Watari asked, licking some cinnamon paste off of his finger.

"Well...magic isn't like engineering or physics or chemistry, the stuff you're good at," Tsuzuki explained. "It isn't a knowledge made up entirely of facts and figures that you can learn out of a book. You need to have some kind of natural gift for it. I know math and science have their whiz kids, too, but magic is an entirely different ball game. If you don't have the spark in you already, you can't learn it."

Watari nodded slowly. "I don't have much of a talent for magic, myself, which is why I stuck to physical sciences even after becoming a shinigami."

"Exactly," Tsuzuki nodded back. "Hisoka has a soul unusually vibrant with inborn abilities. His empathy manifested itself even while he was alive, and at a very young age. He said he can't remember a time when he couldn't sense others' emotions. It's gotten noticeably stronger since he died, but it wasn't blocked off by the barriers of flesh and bone while he lived, as would be expected. Many 'normal' humans find they have 'abnormal' powers after they die. They just don't realize it while they're hampered by the gap between their physical and spiritual bodies. Hisoka never had the luxury of being 'normal', though."

"What are you getting at?" Watari asked when Tsuzuki paused.

"What I'm getting at is that Hisoka has a very deep well of raw, natural power," Tsuzuki continued, "but I don't think fuda magic is right for him. He's just not clicking with it, like he's somehow incompatible with what he's trying to learn. He seems to me to be suited more for things that turn inward, things that affect the body or mind on a personal level. Fuda magic is all about going outward and affecting your surroundings. Attack, defense, that sort of thing."

"I see what you mean," Watari nodded. "Bon's slow progress could mean that kind of magic just isn't right for him."

"Mmhm," Tsuzuki confirmed, tearing off another chunk of cinnamon bun. "I've been meaning to talk to him about it. I'm just not sure how I should bring it up." Chewing and then swallowing, he changed the subject. "So, how's Tatsumi been doing? You see him more than I do."

"He's doing fine," Watari smiled. "He was rather despondent for a few days after the fire in Kyoto, but he's been back to normal since. He's micromanaging the budget and finances just the same as he was before."

"Lucky you," Tsuzuki grinned. Watari, his operations taking place mainly in the compound, was under Tatsumi's scrutiny much more often than Tsuzuki, who spent most of his time out in the field. It was a little easier for Tsuzuki to fudge expense reports than Watari.

"Shut up," the scientist said, wrinkling his nose.

Tsuzuki snickered. Budget cuts to the science department was the thing Watari disliked the most about working at Enmachou, though said cuts were often his own fault, either directly or indirectly. Tsuzuki tried hard not to find amusement in his friend's distress, but it was so very difficult sometimes.

The older shinigami glanced at his watch as he popped the last bit of cinnamon bun into his mouth, his eyes widening a bit in surprise. "Whoops! It's just about the time I told Hisoka I'd meet him to check on his progress." He stood up and dusted himself off. "Thanks for the treat, Watari. I'll have to pay you back sometime soon."

"No rush," Watari said, waving him off with another smile. "Don't keep your partner waiting on my account. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Bye!" Tsuzuki called, smiling and waving as he walked off.

Pink and white flower petals puffed up from the grass as he walked, disturbed from their recently-found rest. The breeze ruffled his hair, blowing chocolate-brown strands into his face. He smiled softly as he walked. To think that he had been willing to throw away experiencing simple pleasures like this just a couple of weeks ago...

"Now...where did you go, Hisoka?" he wondered out loud, stopping a short distance away from the picnic area. His partner had lately been teaching him how to sense the presence of other shinigami beyond his natural range of perception. Though he was not an empath, it wasn't difficult for him to learn to extend his senses further than what was innately reachable for him. He knew that Hisoka had not left Meifu, so he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reached out. He aimed his field of "vision" away from the Enmachou compound, as there were so many people in there that he wouldn't be able to find Hisoka even if that's where he was. The green-eyed boy liked quieter, calmer places to practice, anyway. He'd be a considerable distance away from everyone else right now.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki said quietly as his perception fell upon a single presence a good deal away from the building looming behind him. He felt his partner react to the mental probe, aware of Tsuzuki's sweeping search of the area. The taller shinigami pinpointed Hisoka's location and headed in that direction.

It wasn't long before his partner's slight frame came into view. His arms were stretched out in front of him, eyes closed in concentration as he focused all his effort onto a rectangular strip of paper floating in the air before him. The flowing calligraphy on the fuda shone fluorescent green, a glow of a paler shade shimmering around his immediate surroundings. The young man was currently bending his will upon a shielding spell.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki ventured after watching his partner for several minutes. A faint expression of concern had settled on his face. Shielding spells were quite simple, and he was troubled by how much effort Hisoka seemed to be putting out to maintain one.

The boy's eyes snapped open as if in surprise, the barrier around him wavering before dissolving completely, points of bright green light scattering as if on the wind. The fuda floated down to the grass, the writing on it once again black and dull.

"You doing all right?" Tsuzuki asked, stepping closer. Hisoka didn't seem particularly tired, but he was cautious in case his interruption had made his partner cranky. He could be quite short-tempered with Tsuzuki if the older man disrupted his reading, at any rate.

"I'm fine," Hisoka nodded. If he was aggravated by Tsuzuki's intrusion, he wasn't showing it. He checked his watch. "I was just about to head home. I've been practicing for a few hours now."

"Any progress?" Tsuzuki prodded him. "Have you gotten more comfortable with the spells you've been practicing?"

"Not really," Hisoka replied after a slight pause. "I didn't have any fuda catch fire, though, which is good."

Tsuzuki nodded in agreement, though he grimaced a bit at the memories. Hisoka had indeed had a few fuda go up in flames in the past, which wasn't the best of signs for an aspiring spellmaster. It meant that the energy that was being channeled into it was entirely the wrong kind for whatever spell the fuda held. The very fact that this had happened, especially since it had happened more than once, meant that Hisoka wasn't "clicking" with this kind of magic, as Tsuzuki had just explained to Watari.

"I'll see you around then, Tsuzuki," Hisoka said, picking his jacket up from the ground and putting it on. "Remember, Konoe-kachou and Tatsumi-san want to meet with us tomorrow morning to negotiate our resumption of field assignments. Don't be late." He put special emphasis on his last sentence, knowing full well that Tsuzuki hated such meetings, and may come in late due to a reluctance to attend.

"Hai," Tsuzuki sighed, raising his hand in acknowledgement. He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow morning. "Ne, Hisoka?" he called after his retreating partner after a moment.

Hisoka turned around to look at him again, his eyebrows raised slightly in question.

"Um," Tsuzuki faltered, his brain finally registering why he had stopped Hisoka's departure. For a few seconds, he hadn't been sure why he had called out to him. "There's something I think we need to discuss. Do you mind if we do it now, or should it wait until later?"

Hisoka didn't answer immediately, looking at him silently for moment, his expression neutral. Tsuzuki had the uncomfortable feeling that Hisoka was reading his emotions, as if trying to discern what he wanted to talk about. He eventually agreed to Tsuzuki's proposal, however. "All right. Let's not do it out here, though."

"You wanna go back to the compound?" Tsuzuki asked, tilting his head in the large building's direction.

"No," the boy replied, his voice trailing off, as if unsure of what he was going to say next. He looked conflicted for a moment. "Why don't we do it at my place?" he asked finally.

Tsuzuki blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected that. In the few years they had been partners, Hisoka had never once invited him to his home before. In fact, Tsuzuki had never been there at all, invited or not. On the coattails of that thought came the realization that Hisoka had never been to his apartment, either.

"You dont want to?" Hisoka asked when Tsuzuki didn't respond immediately.

"Oh, no!" Tsuzuki smiled, startled out of his thoughts. "I have no objections at all!" I'd love to visit your home, Hisoka!" He hoped he didn't sound too enthusiastic. It wouldn't do for Hisoka to think his partner just a bit too curious about where he lived.

"All right, then," Hisoka nodded, his expression softening from the hard look of annoyance he had worn when he perceived Tsuzuki as hesitant to go home with him. "Follow me." He fazed out, opting for the quicker method of translocation to get home. Walking would take a while, and he didn't have any desire to do so at the moment. He knew Tsuzuki wouldn't have any trouble finding him, as shinigami left a "trail" when they translocated, easily followed by other shinigami for a few minutes after. He was already in the front door of the apartment building, however, when Tsuzuki popped into existence in almost the exact same spot he had.

"Hisoka, wait!" Tsuzuki called, jogging up the stairs and through the door after him. The outside of the building was rather nondescript, he had noticed, and the inside didn't look much fancier. It was a simple, no-frills apartment building, something that suited Hisoka very well, he thought. The boy wasn't one for useless frippery, after all.

Tsuzuki glanced around the plain hallway as Hisoka fished his keys out of his jeans pocket and unlocked the door. It was quiet here, none of the neighbors making any perceptible noise. He suspected that Hisoka had chosen this building because of the noticeable stillness. If he was to be living around strangers, he'd prefer that they'd be quiet strangers. He had lived his life in a large aristocratic home, after all, where it was possible to see hardly anybody all day. As much as he despised his life on Earth, he was still used to--not to mention favored--the solitude.

The apartment was neat and clean, not much to be called fancy in there, either. Like the building, it was a Western-style living space, a kitchen nook off the living room to one side and doors to what Tsuzuki assumed were the bathroom and bedroom off to the other side. There was simple, practical, light-brown carpet on the floor, a blue loveseat in the approximate center of the living room, a matching armchair in a corner by a medium-sized bookcase, a coffee table with a glass top in front of the loveseat, and a TV stand with a television on top of it against the wall. The TV stand was of cupboard design, and Tsuzuki guessed that a VCR or DVD player was down below, perhaps with videos or DVDs along with it. He really didn't know what Hisoka was interested in as far as television was concerned, but the fact that he had one testified that there was at least some programming he enjoyed. The bookcase was crammed full of books, which didn't surprise Tsuzuki in the slightest, and a few larger books lay on the coffee table. To one side of the loveseat was a small, round table, a decorative fern on top.

"Go ahead and hang your coat up," Hisoka said, taking off his shoes and leaving them to one side of the door. Tsuzuki followed suit as Hisoka shed his jacket and hung it on a coat rack to the other side of the door. "Y'know...you're the first person who's come to visit me since I moved here."

"Really?" Tsuzuki asked, looking up from hanging his trench coat up. He was a bit surprised. "You mean you've never had friends over?"

"No," Hisoka shook his head. "I see you all almost every day at work, and by the time I come home, I want to spend the rest of my evening by myself. Most of my after-work activities are one-person things, after all." He motioned casually toward the bookcase.

Tsuzuki continued staring at him, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. He was troubled by Hisoka's words. "You mean...you haven't made any friends outside of work? For as long as you've been here, we're still the only people you socialize with?"

Hisoka looked at him silently for a moment, then turned toward the kitchen. "Sit down. I'll get us something to eat."

Tsuzuki complied, taken aback by the realization. He knew that Hisoka liked to be alone a good deal of the time, but to find out that the boy was still limiting himself to his coworkers for companionship wasn't very pleasing. Hisoka was still quite young, and he should be socializing like a person his age. Or at least more than with just the people he saw at work every day. It was no secret that Hisoka was jaded with the world and the people in it, but it wasn't healthy to shut himself off so completely, especially after this long.

The younger man emerged back into the living room a few minutes later, a plate of butter crackers and sliced cheddar in his hands. "It isn't much, but I wouldn't feel right not offering anything," he apologized as he set it down on the coffee table. As the son of a well-to-do family, he had been taught the proper methods of serving guests, as well as the practice of apologizing for whatever he set in front of them. No matter how adequate it was, it was considered polite to speak as if it was grossly _in_adequate. Humility was a prized behavior, after all.

"Nah, it's just fine, Hisoka," Tsuzuki smiled in response. "Thanks!" Even though he had just eaten a good-sized cinnamon bun, he reached for the snack with no diminished appetite. He hadn't earned the nickname Bottomless Pit for nothing.

"So, what did you want to discuss?" Hisoka asked after a few minutes of small talk. "Is it about my lack of progress with fuda magic?"

Tsuzuki swallowed the cracker and cheese in his mouth, nodding.

"Why am I having such difficulty, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka queried, speaking first. "You explained to me that it takes years to master, and I understand that, but I've been practicing since I became your partner, and I'm still able to do just a few simple ones without concentrating a lot. You saw me with that shielding spell earlier. The moment you caught my attention, it broke apart. There's no way I could keep it up with all the distractions of a battle around me. The only reason the one you gave me on our first case together held up so well was because it was yours. All I did was hold a fuda infused with your power." He was, of course, speaking of the shielding fuda Tsuzuki had handed to Maria Wong to give to Hisoka back during their first encounter with a certain silver-haired surgeon. "Was it...was it this difficult for you when you were first learning?"

"No," Tsuzuki shook his head slowly. "No, it wasn't. I have a natural talent for fuda magic, so I took to it quite easily. This brings me directly to my point. I don't think it's something you're suited for, Hisoka. Not that you don't have a lot of potential!" he added quickly when he saw the look of disappointment cross his partner's face. "You're just meant for something different. You have enormous reserves of untrained power resting in you, and you need to learn to tap into that power and develop it in the way that best fits you. Some people just can't do certain things, while they excel at others. Fuda magic isn't working for you, but you'll take to some other form of magic like a fish to water, I bet."

"So...what am I suited for, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka asked, letting his words sink in. "Can you tell?"

"Well," Tsuzuki began, sitting back. "You're finely attuned to a person's inner workings. That much is obvious. A strong empathic ability like yours often goes hand-in-hand with a sensitivity to the state of the body and soul. Mind, heart, and flesh are the trinity that makes up the being, you know. Empathy usually comes naturally, like for you, while the other awarenesses often have to be actively developed. You should seek to grow in your field rather than mine. You'll take to it easier and you'll be happier with what you're doing. I'm no expert, but it's quite possible that you would make a good healer."

"A healer?" Hisoka repeated, looking down at the half-eaten cracker in his fingers. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Tsuzuki nodded. "Having an in-depth knowledge of the state of a person's being would be a great tool in helping them recover from damage, be it mental, physical, or spiritual. It's easier to mend something if you know just what's wrong with it, after all. I'm sure that you're aware that most of the lost and wandering souls we retrieve from Earth are damaged in some way. They often stay behind instead of crossing over because of some injury inflicted upon them, either by themselves or by someone else, and you've seen that most of them are also resistant to being taken where they belong. If they knew that you can help give them peace, that you can help soothe away their pain, it may make them more receptive to us. It would be less difficult for us and less stressful for them."

Hisoka nodded slowly. Tsuzuki was being completely serious about this. The rarity of that kind of behavior from his partner let Hisoka know that Tsuzuki believed every word of what he was saying. He could quite possibly be correct. Maybe Hisoka's purpose was to heal and soothe, not attack and destroy. He already knew some powerful attack spells--not involving fuda--but perhaps his true calling was just the opposite. He looked away from the cracker in his fingers and up to Tsuzuki's face. He saw earnestness in those violet eyes, and he found encouragement in that.

"Okay, Tsuzuki," he said finally. "I'll look into it. It does sound like something I might be good at."

"Good," Tsuzuki smiled. "And y'know, you don't have to limit yourself just to healing, if that's what you decide to do. You might be good at exorcism, too. That spell you cast on me to get Sargatanus out was pretty damn impressive, especially for a beginner. It didn't work, yeah, but he was a powerful demon. You definitely showed promise in your effort, though."

"Heh...thanks," Hisoka said, a faint blush coming to his cheeks.

Tsuzuki grinned wider. He thought that Hisoka was so cute when he was embarrassed, though the empath would probably sock him if he said that out loud.

They talked of other things for awhile, Hisoka growing more comfortable over time, much to Tsuzuki's delight. Though Hisoka had been the one to invite him here, there had been a lingering tenseness in the boy at first. This was the first time anyone had visited his apartment, and the feeling of his personal space being invaded had been throbbing in the back of his mind. Tsuzuki was happy to see that Hisoka was growing more relaxed as time went by.

_chng...__chng...__chng...chng...chng..._

Both of them looked up at a small pendulum clock Hisoka had on his wall. The little bell inside had just chimed five o'clock.

"Five already," Tsuzuki said, swallowing the last bit of cracker and cheese. "Didn't think I'd been here that long."

"Time flies," Hisoka shrugged. The Latin inscription on the clock face, _Tempus fugit_, said as much.

"I know!" Tsuzuki suddenly exclaimed, standing up from his seat next to Hisoka. "Why don't you come over to my place?"

"Huh?" Hisoka blinked, taken off guard by the proposal.

"Come on!" Tsuzuki chided, flipping Hisoka's honey-blond hair. "I visited your apartment, so you visit mine! It's not too late to be visiting with friends!"

Hisoka scowled as he smoothed his hair, but then looked back up at Tsuzuki as his partner talked. Did he _want_ to go over for a visit...?

"I don't want to impose--" he began.

"Not at all," Tsuzuki said with the gentle firmness he used when he wouldn't be moved. "I would love to have you over, Hisoka. You haven't seen the place yet, after all. We're partners at work, but I like to think of us as friends outside of work."

Warmth rose to Hisoka's cheeks again, and he blushed a bit at Tsuzuki's words. He lowered his face as he did so, though, so Tsuzuki wouldn't see it. "Um...all right. If you insist."

"Yatta!" Tsuzuki grinned, his genki demeanor in full bloom. "I'll put the plate in the kitchen while you get your jacket and shoes on." With that, he grabbed up the empty plate and took it to the kitchen. Hisoka could hear him rinse it off and set it in the sink as he donned his jacket and shoes. "I think I know what part of town we're in," Tsuzuki said when he came back. "It's not all that far, so we can walk if you want."

Hisoka nodded as Tsuzuki put his own coat and shoes on. Within half a minute, the door closed behind them as they went out. As Tsuzuki strolled toward the stairwell, humming, Hisoka locked the door from the outside, pocketed his keys, and followed his partner outside.

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** I'm posting this a lot sooner than I planned to. Don't expect this to happen all the time, though. If you've followed my stories before, you know that I'm notoriously late for updates at least--at _least_--half the time. I tried setting a schedule for myself with my last multi-chapter, but that only lasted for so long. The schedule for this story will be "whenever I get around to it."

This chapter took a long time to edit, though. I don't know why. I'm glad I finally got it done, 'cause taking too long to edit can be frustrating. Ugh.

See y'all next time.


	4. Some Tea with Your Sugar?

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks to elusive dreamer, Akii, OliveInk, LillianeDeMalvrier, and eggdrpsoup for reading and reviewing chapter three!

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Four: Some Tea with Your Sugar?**

"Well, here we are!" Tsuzuki chimed as he flipped the light switch to the "on" position.

Hisoka blinked in the sudden brightness, his eyes having grown accustomed to the dimmer light of the hallway. The building they were in was nondescript, like the building Hisoka lived in. It was also quiet, though he heard a noise or two coming from behind doors as they passed, the occupants going about their daily business. Though he preferred quiet, sometimes it seemed even to him that his building was almost eerily silent. Either it had particularly thick walls, or not many people were living in it. Hisoka had never bothered to find out.

When his sight returned to him, he took in the scene before him. The living room--and, presumably, the entire apartment--was in a much more traditional style than his own. There was a low table near the center of the room, a seating cushion on each of the four sides. In the far corner of the room was a small shrine, the type that was used to memorialize and pray to ancestors. A sliding door stood on the wall adjacent to the shrine, leading to what Hisoka guessed was the bedroom. Or perhaps it was a storage closet. In traditionally-styled homes like this, it wasn't uncommon that you had to sleep in the main room, storing your bedding away during the day. Against the opposite wall, like in Hisoka's living room, was a TV stand with a modestly-sized television on it, a remote control resting at an angle on the top. Here and there on the walls was a mismatched collection of pictures and wall-hangings, as well as a scattering of knick-knacks on individual shelves that hung at regular intervals. There wasn't any particular "décor" to speak of, but the casual variety in the decorations was something he expected from Tsuzuki. The floor was covered with tatami, and he felt it rustle slightly under his feet as he stepped on it in his socks, his shoes left by the door.

"You like?" Tsuzuki asked as he shut the door behind him. "I don't have visitors often. I hope the place isn't too dusty for you."

"Oh, no," Hisoka replied. "It's nice. I like it." Truth be told, he was a bit surprised. He had half expected Tsuzuki to live in a pigsty, what with the man's reluctance to do boring stuff like paperwork. He would have thought that Tsuzuki shirked at cleaning, too, which was no more exciting or stimulating than filing reports, as well as more physically demanding.

"Good!" Tsuzuki smiled, and Hisoka could easily feel that he was genuinely glad to have someone over. He felt a warm feeling stir in his chest at that thought. After sixteen years of neglect, he felt a small thrill surge through him whenever he perceived that he was wanted and welcome somewhere. Though it had been a couple years now since he took the job of shinigami, that feeling hadn't stopped coming to him whenever the occasion arose. "Go ahead and hang your jacket up on the coat rack there, and have a seat," his partner continued. "I'll get us something to drink." Before Hisoka had a chance to protest, he had disappeared through a door that apparently led to the kitchen.

Hisoka sighed as he sat down at the low table, his jacket hanging on a peg. Tsuzuki could quite literally burn an empty pan, so even something as simple and easy as tea could be toxic coming from him. It was no use refusing, though, as Tsuzuki seemed oblivious to the poisonous nature of his culinary concoctions, and couldn't fathom that anyone else would think them inconsumable.

Several minutes later, Tsuzuki emerged from the kitchen carrying two cups that were indeed filled with tea. Steam rose in thin wisps, and Hisoka noted that the aroma that was also rising from the cups gave no cause for alarm. Sometimes, just the smell of Tsuzuki's cooking was enough to chase one's appetite away.

"Here ya go," Tsuzuki said, setting one down in front of Hisoka. "I hope you don't mind, but I put milk and sugar in it already." True to his word, the color was that of black tea, but drastically lighter. Hisoka suspected that Tsuzuki had put in almost as much milk as tea, and considering the older shinigami's sweet tooth, it was probably sugared to the consistency of jet fuel.

"Thanks," Hisoka said anyway, opting to humor his partner. Tsuzuki was in a genuinely good mood, his empathy told him. Though he had a reputation of being uncaring when it came to the feelings of others, especially his wayward partner, he had no desire to ruin Tsuzuki's cheerfulness tonight. To do so would be downright mean, he thought, and he didn't think of himself as a truly mean person. Just a sharp-tongued one.

Gingerly, as if he expected it to explode, he picked up the cup. It was of traditional design, formed of rippled ceramic with no handle. It was much like the teacups used in the Kurosaki household, and Hisoka unthinkingly adopted the proper way of holding it. Raising it tentatively to his lips, he took a sip.

"How is it?" Tsuzuki asked, watching his smaller partner carefully.

Hisoka seemed to hold the tea in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, as if testing for poison. "It's drinkable," he finally replied, setting the cup down.

Tsuzuki smiled, satisfied, raising his own cup and downing a third of it in two gulps. He never was one for table manners.

They sat in silence for several moments, just enjoying the peace and quiet. Tsuzuki finished his tea quickly, while Hisoka drank his in measured sips to avoid sugar shock. Occasionally, a sound from the neighbors reached the younger man's ears.

"Do you mind if I look at your shrine?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence. He had been staring at it for a few minutes, and the small framed picture sitting in it looked a bit like Tsuzuki himself from this distance. But that made no sense. Why would he have his own picture in a family shrine?

"Oh!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, looking back at the shrine in the corner. "Um...yeah, be my guest." He seemed a bit spooked by the question, as if Hisoka had asked something incredibly personal. This puzzled Hisoka even more. After waiting a moment in case Tsuzuki changed his mind, he stood up and moved over to the modest structure. There was only a single sepia-tinted photo standing in it, giving the whole thing a rather lonely appearance.

As he drew closer, he realized that it was not Tsuzuki at all. Not Tsuzuki Asato, that is. It was a young girl, dressed in traditional kimono and holding a parasol. There was a silver plate on the bottom edge of the picture frame, and engraved on the plate was a name.

_Tsuzuki Ruka_

"Ruka?" Hisoka read aloud, reaching out to pick up the picture. He drew his hand back before he did, however, realizing that it would be disrespectful to the girl it depicted to disturb her shrine. She resembled his partner very closely, a female version of him in almost every respect. She had the same bright smile, the same laughing eyes, the same carefree way of holding herself. The biggest difference Hisoka saw was that her happiness seemed genuine. His partner's, if one looked past its face value, was heavily tainted, and Hisoka had painfully experienced the reason for that just a few weeks ago.

Tsuzuki didn't immediately respond, making Hisoka turn to look back at him.

"Is this your mother?" he asked.

"No," Tsuzuki answered after a short pause. "Not my mother. My sister."

"Oh," was all Hisoka could think to say. Tsuzuki's voice had taken a noticeably somber tone, and he felt a sharp drop in the man's mood. Hisoka was unsure if he wanted to continue with this conversation.

"Neesan was four years older than me," Tsuzuki went on, not waiting for a prompt. "She never married, which was a much bigger deal at that time than now. I remember our parents asking her when she was fifteen why she wasn't letting any of the young men court her. It wasn't that she was failing to attract their attention, or anything. She just had no interest in marriage. That was pretty unusual for a girl in a time when pretty much all a woman of her station had to look forward to in life was a husband and children. I guess it's fair to say that she was several decades ahead of her time, because what she really wanted to do was be a dance teacher. Kaasan and Tousan weren't too thrilled with that idea, as the thought of their daughter working instead of being a proper wife positively horrified them. How would that reflect on the family name?" He finished with a wry smile, recounting the prevailing attitude of his childhood Japan. Though gender roles in the country were still more defined than in some other parts of the world, women had been entering the workforce in record numbers in the past few years.

Hisoka returned to the table, sitting across from Tsuzuki to listen to his story.

"I suppose you know...how people thought of me then," Tsuzuki continued, barely above a whisper. When Hisoka nodded slowly, he went on. "Neesan never saw me that way. She tried to protect me, chasing the other boys away by stamping her feet and threatening to cry, promising to tell the adults that they had been bullying her. She knew that they would be punished for doing that to a girl, so it always worked. I knew that it made me look weak to have to be saved by my sister, but I didn't care. She was the only person who gave me any kindness. She couldn't protect me from everything--there was no way she could be with me every minute--but she did everything she could.

"She always denied anything that was ever said about me being a monster. Whenever she could, she would tell me that everyone was wrong, that my eyes were a rare and beautiful thing to be proud of, not hated or feared. She said that I was as human as anyone, and that my tears proved it. No demon would cry, she said, not with the hurt and loneliness that I cried with. I...I tried to believe her. I loved her, and I tried my hardest to take to heart what she was trying to tell me. But...I just heard so often and from so many people that I was evil, something to be driven away. It was easier to believe everyone else than it was to believe her. I mean, if everyone was saying it, it must be true, right? Even our parents called me a monster, and I probably would have died from neglect if she hadn't been there to take care of me." His voice was trembling, his hands clasped on the table as he spoke.

"Tsuzuki..." Hisoka began, but trailed off when his partner started speaking again.

"Neesan died...when she was just eighteen. It was spring, and she had gone to market to buy flowers. She loved flowers, and wanted some to brighten up the house after a long winter." He paused, drawing in a shaky breath, as if steeling himself for what was next. "I never found out what exactly happened. All I know is they brought her back dead only about half an hour after she had left. I think I remember hearing something about a cart accident--tipping over from too much loaded onto it, or whatever--but I was too much in shock to take in anything that was said." He closed his eyes tightly, bowing his head as he remembered.

Hisoka swallowed, feeling his lower lip tremble. Tsuzuki's emotions were powerful, and they were starting to affect his own. The desire to stop Tsuzuki's story was getting stronger by the minute.

"It felt like everything was falling in on top of me," the older man continued, "and like there was a gaping void beneath my feet at the same time. It was my worst nightmare come true. The one person in the world who didn't hate me was gone, and I had nothing to fall back on, nothing to help me cope. I ran away in a panic before the day was over. I was terrified of what would happen with no one to protect me. I couldn't protect myself. I was too weak. So I just...I just ran until my lungs were burning and my heart was pounding in my ears. I might have finally stopped myself or I might have just collapsed mid-run. I don't know for sure.

"That period in my life...I can't remember a whole lot of it. It's all blurry when I look back. I couldn't even tell you for sure if I lived on the streets the whole time or not. I don't know what I did to survive, and I really don't _want_ to know. Just thinking of the possibilities makes me sick. The bits and pieces I do remember make my blood run cold, and I don't want to remember any more." He paused again, rubbing at his face as if trying to scrub away the unwelcome memories. When he continued, he held his head down, his hands shielding most of his face from Hisoka's sight. "There was a time...it had to have been just before I was hospitalized...the memories aren't blurry, they're fractured. Like a puzzle with its pieces mixed up and half of them missing. They make no sense...no sense at all. But they're all tinted red. I hear screams...smell blood..._I hurt people_--"

"Tsuzuki, stop," Hisoka cut across him, barely managing to contain the quiver in his voice. A cold feeling had been growing in his gut the entire time Tsuzuki had been talking, but the mention of him hurting people made it suddenly double in intensity. He had heard vague rumors in his time as a shinigami, rumors that Tsuzuki had hurt or maybe even killed many people before his waking coma at the hospital. Those whisperings had unnerved him, and to hear Tsuzuki all but confess that they were true was too much. He wasn't ready to know that about his partner yet. He had to stop this _now_.

Tsuzuki immediately fell silent at Hisoka's words, as if he had been waiting to be interrupted. He remained hunched over the table, his breathing shallow and shaky.

"Why are you telling me this?" The green-eyed boy stared at his partner, a mixture of confusion and horror swirling in him. Something akin to anger was flickering beneath the surface as well. "Why are you bringing up such painful memories? Why are you hurting yourself like this?" He looked away, folding his arms in a protective gesture. "I...I only asked who she was."

"I don't know," Tsuzuki whispered, and Hisoka could feel that he also was confused, and more than a little frightened that he had spilled it all so readily. "I-I'm sorry, Hisoka. I just--" He snapped his mouth shut when Hisoka sighed. He risked a peek up at his young partner, briefly meeting moody green eyes.

"I'm sorry," Hisoka said quietly. "I didn't mean to sound angry with you. I just don't like seeing you like this. I _hate_ seeing you like this."

Tsuzuki lowered his eyes again, staring down at his empty teacup.

"You're not a monster, Tsuzuki," Hisoka continued. "I've told you and I've told you and I've told you. I just can't--I _won't_--believe that you're evil or inhuman. You're too selfless for that, too loving."

"I know," Tsuzuki said, rubbing at his eyes. "I know you think that. You've told me so many times, and so did Neesan. I try to believe you two. I really, really do...I try so hard. I just...I just can't forget what everyone _else_ has told me. Please, Hisoka...please, be patient with me. I'm trying my hardest."

Hisoka looked at him silently for a few seconds, as if digesting his words. When he didn't move, the younger shinigami spoke again.

"Your eyes are indeed a very rare color, but it's not unnatural," he began slowly. "It's a variation of the blue-eye gene, not a mark of demonic descent. You should listen to your sister, Tsuzuki. Your eyes are something to be proud of. Very few people can claim to have such unique eyes."

"But," Tsuzuki protested, "people say that it's not a real eye color, that my having purple eyes _has_ to be a sign of unnaturalness."

Hisoka shrugged. "I guess it's so rare that some people don't think it _is_ natural. It's human nature to assume that anomalies are a sign that something's wrong. Albinos were once thought to be inhuman, because of their red eyes and lack of pigment, but now we know it's just a genetic disorder. It used to be thought that tumors were divine punishment for some sin or another, but now we know it's out of control cell division. Purple eyes are the same. You were just unfortunate enough to be born into a time before these things were understood. We know better now. You can't let old superstitions lead you to believe something that's not true, Tsuzuki."

"But...Muraki...he said--"

Tsuzuki was cut off abruptly by Hisoka's fist slamming down on the table. He looked up at his partner in surprise, his eyes widening as he was met with an expression of utter rage. Hisoka was quite visibly displeased that Tsuzuki had brought up the assertions of _Muraki_, of all people, to argue against him. The thought of Tsuzuki being more willing to believe the mad surgeon than he was his own partner was a kick in the teeth.

The dark-haired shinigami looked down quickly, mortified. He realized too late how much he must have insulted the empath. Insinuating that Muraki was more honest or trustworthy than Hisoka must have been extremely offensive to the honey-blond youth, if not outright infuriating.

Hisoka sighed again, meeting Tsuzuki's eyes when he ventured a look up.

"Speaking of Muraki, you offered me your help in going after him," he said, reining in his indignation. "Now, I'm returning the offer. No, scratch that. I'm not offering, I'm outright telling you. I'll get you to truly believe me--believe your sister--if I have to die a second death to do it, and I'll be damned if I let you beat yourself up over this any longer."

"Hisoka..." Tsuzuki began, then looked down at his empty teacup again, a wavery reflection of his face in the damp bottom. He managed a thin smile, surprising himself when he realized there was actual mirth behind it. "You're just as stubborn as Neesan ever was, y'know?"

"You're damn right I am," Hisoka shot back, though his hostile tone was all an act. Tsuzuki's response almost sounded like a challenge, and Kurosaki Hisoka was never one to back down from a challenge. In fact, it only served to strengthen his resolve.

"Seriously, though," Tsuzuki said, looking back up, "I'm really happy to hear you say that, Hisoka. It means a lot to me."

Hisoka nodded, swallowing the last of his sugar-laden drink. "After all we've gone through together, there's no way I'm giving up on you now."

The late afternoon passed slowly into night. After a few semi-successful attempts to turn the conversation to lighter subjects, they both agreed to just watch some TV. Neither of them wanted to dwell on the sudden downturn of the evening, and finding an engaging TV show held more promise of getting their minds off of it than idle chitchat. However, the TV was soon forgotten in favor of bantering back and forth about the merits and demerits of a certain criminal investigation program.

When Tsuzuki suddenly yawned widely, Hisoka glanced down at his watch, finally realizing just how long he had been there. "I hate to say this, Tsuzuki, but I need to get going. It's getting late, and we have that meeting tomorrow morning with Konoe-kachou and Tatsumi-san."

Tsuzuki groaned, suddenly reminded of the less than thrilling prospect of sitting through a boring meeting first thing in the morning. "Go on, then," he said after a long, dramatic sigh. "Don't let me keep you."

"Thank you for showing me your apartment," Hisoka said as he stood, smoothing out his shirt. "And thank you for the...tea." He honestly wasn't quite sure _what_ to call that overly-sweet stuff Tsuzuki had served to him.

"Oh, no problem!" Tsuzuki smiled, his happy exterior swiftly restored. "Thank you for showing me yours, and for the snack."

"Mmhm," the boy nodded, retrieving his jacket and shoes. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning, then. Get plenty of sleep, as I don't think Kachou will appreciate you snoring over his attempts to speak with us."

"Speak for yourself, Narcolepsy Boy," Tsuzuki huffed. It wasn't unheard of for Hisoka, having stayed up into the wee hours reading, to drop into an almost instantaneous sleep sometime the next day. His feigned indignity almost cracked, however, when he saw a smile stretch Hisoka's lips. It was very brief, and was quickly replaced with the boy's normal closed-off expression, but it definitely had been there. Tsuzuki caught himself thinking that Hisoka looked really cute with a smile on his face.

"Ja mata," Hisoka said with a quick wave, blinking out of sight a second later. He had chosen, not surprisingly, to teleport back home rather than walk in the cold and the dark for half an hour.

"Seeya," Tsuzuki said to the spot Hisoka had occupied. He picked the teacups up from the table as he stood and deposited them in the kitchen sink to be washed tomorrow. Hisoka was right; sleep is what he needed, and the few dishes that were in the sink could stand to wait until the next evening.

On his way through the living room to the bedroom, he stopped at the shrine, looking down at the picture of his sister. It had been taken less than three months before her death. He hoped that she was happy, wherever she was. He sometimes regretted becoming a shinigami, as it prevented him from crossing over and reuniting with her. He had become a shinigami for a purpose, however, and though he wasn't exactly sure what that purpose was yet, he felt he had no place in abandoning it before it was fulfilled.

Stepping closer, he brushed his fingers gently over the glass of the frame.

"Oyasumi," he said softly, bidding her good night. "Oyasumi...Neesan."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Kah. I practically rewrote this whole chapter, so it took _forever_ to get ready to post. I'm going to be writing new material from this point forward. Hopefully updates won't be too infrequent. Don't be surprised, though, if they are. I'm really bad at that.

Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter. You could say that Tsuzuki spilled his guts a little too quickly, but Hisoka's going to confront him about it after the meeting with Tatsumi and Konoe. Don't get on my case yet.


	5. Just a Little Change of Subject

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Much thanks to LillianeDeMalvrier, Ani-bee, eggdrpsoup, Maggie-Morbid, and GreatCheezyPoofGirl for reading and reviewing chapter four!

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Five: Just a Little Change of Subject**

Tsuzuki yawned widely, bringing his hand up to his mouth. He and Hisoka had been sitting in this conference room for close to an hour now, discussing their resumption of out-of-office assignments with Konoe and Tatsumi.

Hisoka shot Tsuzuki a glare, but it was mostly out of habit. He doubted the other shinigami saw it, anyway. Sighing shortly through his nose, Hisoka turned his attention back to the chief. He couldn't really blame Tsuzuki for the display of weariness. He hadn't expected the meeting to run this long--there were more conditions to them returning to the field than he had thought---and he knew very well that Tsuzuki's endurance for such things was exceedingly low.

There was also the possibility his partner hadn't gotten much sleep. Even if he had gone to bed immediately after Hisoka had left, the topic of their conversation last night could very well have kept him from sleeping. The awful memories that had been dredged up were enough to suck the sleep out of just about anybody, he figured.

_It's his own fault_, he thought sourly, feeling a small stab of guilt for his accusation. _If he hadn't brought the whole thing up..._

"Kurosaki-kun?" Tatsumi's voice suddenly broke through to him. "Are you feeling all right? You look distracted."

Hisoka blinked, sitting up straight as he suddenly realized his thoughts had completely drowned out anything the room's other three occupants may have said. "Oh! Um...yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing important." He shook his head, breathing in deeply to bring his attention back to the meeting. _And to think I was concerned about _Tsuzuki_ losing his concentration..._

He thought he saw out of the corner of his eye an amused grin flash across Tsuzuki's face, as if he was thinking the same thing. Hisoka bristled, making a mental note to throw something at his partner later.

"As I was saying," Konoe continued, picking up where he left off upon noticing Hisoka's blank look, "the two of you have been determined to be ready to return to Kyushu and resume assignments there. Shinigami from the other divisions have been taking turns taking over for you, but they're needed most in their own territories. We should count ourselves lucky that it's been rather quiet throughout Japan while you two have been recovering."

Hisoka nodded once. It wasn't as if there were substitute shinigami they could call if any of them was out of commission. Tatsumi was well versed in shinigami duties, and there were other employees around Enmachou who could fill in with passable proficiency, but they were all needed in their own departments, and a stand-in would be a severe detriment if anything serious came up. You wouldn't send a police officer to put out a five-alarm fire, after all.

"You two believe you're fully recovered, yes?" Konoe asked.

"Yes, sir," Hisoka replied as Tsuzuki nodded his agreement.

"That's good. Nevertheless, you will be given light assignments as much as possible until it can be determined if you're truly in tip-top shape. There's still the risk of you falling short of your normal strength, and Enma-daiou doesn't want to take the chance of either of you being hospitalized again."

"Enma himself is involved in this, huh?" Tsuzuki commented, sitting back and crossing his arms. He didn't seem defensive or upset. It was rather like he wasn't surprised to hear of the Lord of the Dead's concern in the matter.

"Of course," Tatsumi said. "You are the most powerful shinigami currently employed, Tsuzuki-san. And you, Kurosaki-kun, have shown an enormous amount of potential. It's best for all concerned if you encounter as few obstacles as possible as you come into your full strength."

"I understand," Hisoka nodded. Though Tsuzuki wasn't surprised at Enma's involvement, Hisoka would be lying if he said he himself wasn't. Though Tsuzuki was decades older than him and--considering his unique circumstances--likely has come under the scrutiny of Enma in the past, this was the first time Hisoka was aware of that Meifu's supreme ruler had personally affected his own progress as a shinigami.

"You'll be given the rest of the day to be brought up to speed as to the happenings in Kyushu while you were gone," Konoe said. "Tomorrow, you'll return to your territory. There aren't any open cases there at the moment, but you know how quickly that can change."

"Don't I know," Tsuzuki muttered, a brief grimace settling over his face. Hisoka had the sudden urge to laugh at his partner's uncharacteristic display of irritation.

"Do you have any questions?" Tatsumi asked, gathering up the files on the table and arranging them under his arm. "Any final input or comments that you have?"

"Nope, don't think so," Tsuzuki answered as Hisoka shook his head.

"We'll come to one or both of you if we think of any," the green-eyed boy added.

"All right," Konoe said, standing up. "Then let's get back to work, everyone." He handed one last file to Tatsumi, then turned and went out the door.

The secretary lingered a moment longer. "You two are sure you're ready for this?" he asked, his demeanor changed from the normal businesslike manner to that of a concerned friend.

"You better believe it," Hisoka replied before Tsuzuki could open his mouth. "Tsuzuki's been going stir-crazy staying in the office. No bakeries or sweet shops to raid around here."

"Hey..." Tsuzuki pouted. "You're mean, Hisoka."

Tatsumi chuckled at the familiar bickering. "All right. You know where to find me if you have any concerns." With an encouraging smile, he exited the room as well.

Silence reigned in the conference room for a few minutes.

"Well," Tsuzuki said, quickly recovering from Hisoka's verbal barb, "I guess we should get going, too." He stood up, brushed the crumbs of a slice of coffee cake he had eaten off of his shirt, and turned toward the door.

Hisoka stayed in his seat. "Tsuzuki, wait a sec."

Tsuzuki stopped and turned back toward his partner. "Yeah?"

"There's...something I've been meaning to ask you since we got here this morning." He felt hesitant to bring it up, as he knew how quickly it could change Tsuzuki's mood for the worse.

"What's that?"

Hisoka took a breath, then looked up at his partner. "Why did you tell me all that stuff last night?"

As expected, Tsuzuki's eyes abruptly dimmed. His posture shifted, becoming that of a man emotionally conflicted. After a moment, he slowly sat back down, looking at the table top.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Hisoka said after a moment of silence. "I just want to know why you so quickly confessed so much to me. I just asked a simple question, y'know." He tried to keep his tone neutral. He didn't want Tsuzuki to think he was being critical or accusatory.

Tsuzuki threaded his fingers together and leaned his forehead on his hands. To Hisoka's relief, his emotions hadn't gone spiraling downward, but they were definitely changed from just a few moments ago. He sensed a conflict, as if Tsuzuki wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about this right now.

He waited silently for his partner to answer. Whether it would be an explanation of his behavior last night or a plea to drop it entirely, he didn't speak as he let Tsuzuki decide on his reaction. He glanced at the door. It stood ajar, and he considered getting up to close it.

"I don't really know," Tsuzuki said before he could. "To tell you the truth, I was surprised, too, on how quickly I spilled it all. I just started talking without realizing it, and when I finally _did_ realize it, I couldn't stop myself. It's like I've been dying to tell someone without even knowing it."

"Perhaps you were," Hisoka said, crossing his arms on the table. "People often say that talking about their problems can help relieve them, or make them seem less severe. 'Getting it off their chest,' y'know." He looked over at his partner. "The things you told me about last night are two serious to be alleviated just by talking about them, but maybe you needed someone to share them with. Maybe you needed someone to help you bear the burden."

"I don't want to make you bear my burden, Hisoka," Tsuzuki sighed, closing his eyes. "You have enough to worry about on your own. It's none of my business to add to it."

"Don't worry about it," Hisoka countered. "We both promised to help each other deal with things. Withholding things from one another doesn't exactly help us achieve that goal."

"I guess you're right," Tsuzuki assented, rubbing the back of his neck. "And, y'know, that brings up what I wanted to talk to _you_ about."

"Oh?" Hisoka raised his eyebrows in question, partly relieved for a change of subject.

"I was wondering just how you wanted to go about things," Tsuzuki explained, turning to face the boy.

"What things?" Hisoka asked, confused.

"The things we promised to each other. Helping each other heal, moving on with our lives, conquering our personal demons, stuff like that."

"Ah." Hisoka uncrossed his arms, laying his hands flat on the table's surface. After a moment, he spoke again. "I never really thought about it, honestly. It just never seemed like something to actively _do_. It's not like we can visit someplace or do something and solve all our problems at once."

"I know that," Tsuzuki nodded. "I know healing will take time, and there's no cure-all that can fix everything. I just don't want to sit around and wait for things to work themselves out. Ignoring a problem never makes it go away or fix itself. I've spent over seven decades in this office doing just that, and I'm tired of it. I want to find some way to find closure for both of us, to _help_ us move on instead of just hoping we'll eventually get over things." He paused for a moment, looking at the far wall. "Most of all, I want to help you avoid becoming like me. You're so young, Hisoka. I don't want you to face years of silently brooding over the horrors of your human life with no end in sight. I want you to truly be free of pain instead of just pretending to be."

Hisoka didn't know how to respond to that. Tsuzuki was being completely honest, and Hisoka had to consciously suppress a wince as the pain he picked up from Tsuzuki collided with his own emotions. His partner's words touched him, and he felt both unsure and a little fearful. He knew Tsuzuki cared for him, but to sense just how _deeply_ he cared for him was more than a little unnerving. Out of necessity, he had shut himself off from forming any emotional bonds with people while he was a child. It had been the only sure way to keep himself from being hurt more than he already was. He had slowly formed just such a bond with Tsuzuki during their partnership, and he was well aware of it, but it was still a very tender subject for the young empath. Acknowledging just how strong that connection was becoming scared him. And then there was the added complication of the not-quite-platonic affection he felt growing within himself...

"Are you okay, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked, calling Hisoka's attention back to the present. The boy had an unpleasant feeling of déjà vu as, for the second time that morning, he had pull himself up out of his thoughts and remember where he was and who he was with.

"I'm fine, he said. "Just...just digesting your words."

Tsuzuki nodded, not pressing for an explanation.

"So, what do you suggest, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka asked after a moment. "Any ideas on how to go about this?"

Tsuzuki leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. "Well, there's no definite list of things we should do, like you said. I do have a suggestion on how to start things out, though. It just seems a bit morbid."

"What is it?"

"Visiting the places we've been buried. A conscious effort to accept that we died young, and never really lived actual 'lives' before that. I tell myself that I _do_ accept it, but I know deep down that there's some part of me that still doesn't, even after all these years. I can't say I know how _you_ feel on the subject, but I'm willing to guess you feel much the same way."

"It's a good starting point, you're right," Hisoka nodded, not elaborating on his own feelings. "We could do that, I suppose. We'll probably be playing by ear after that, though. Take things as they come."

"Yeah," Tsuzuki agreed. "I just don't want 'take things as they come' to turn into 'ignore it all completely'."

"It won't," Hisoka assured him. "We can keep each other from falling into that mindset."

"Mmhm," the taller shinigami nodded.

"Are we through?" Hisoka asked after another moment of silence. It seemed odd that _he_ was the one asking, as it was him who kept them in the conference room in the first place.

Tsuzuki didn't answer immediately. In fact, he looked a little nervous. Hisoka's empathy told him that he was _more_ than a little nervous.

"What is it, Tsuzuki?" he prompted.

"Well...there's something else...I've been wanting to talk to you about," Tsuzuki said slowly. "I've been putting it off for a while, actually. A few weeks, at least."

Hisoka trained his gaze on him, waiting for him to get it out.

"It's about...um...well, our feelings...for each other."

Hisoka audibly sucked in a breath. The nervousness he felt wasn't just Tsuzuki's anymore. Butterflies had begun fluttering in his stomach.

"I've been thinking," Tsuzuki continued, speaking cautiously, "that we don't have to work toward just finding peace with ourselves. Maybe, while we're doing that, we could also work toward...I dunno...becoming more than just friends...?"

Hisoka swallowed. "W-what brought this on, Tsuzuki?"

His partner shrugged. "Can't really say. It just felt like I should bring it up. It's another thing I think we should work on, after all."

"You do...?" Hisoka all but whispered. The fact that he didn't like to think about the growing bond between him and Tsuzuki had just been thrown right into his face, and he had a sudden, irrational urge to flee.

"I'm no empath," Tsuzuki went on, "and I don't understand people's feelings nearly as much as you do--"

Hisoka wanted to interrupt and explain that, while he sensed others' emotions quite clearly, that didn't mean he understood them at all. But he didn't. He just let Tsuzuki continue speaking.

"--but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't feel a connection growing between us. I've come to really...really _like_ you, Hisoka. There's a part of me that doesn't _want_ us to be just friends anymore. That part of me wants something more. Something deeper." He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck again. "I don't dare to assume how you feel, but...well..." He looked over at the green-eyed boy. "...you did almost kiss me back in Kyoto."

Hisoka's eyes widened, and he jumped up from his chair, turning away from his partner. His heart, which had been steadily pumping faster as the conversation went on, was now pounding against his ribs. He could feel himself shaking, and hoped it wasn't enough to be visible to Tsuzuki.

The older shinigami was right. After watching Tsuzuki brutally gouge out his own eye, after "seeing" a flash of the man's persecuted childhood, Hisoka had been on the verge of losing control. With Tsuzuki's chaotic emotions nearly overwhelming his own, he had seized the taller man by the collar and told him, as firmly and as sincerely as he could, that he was _completely_ human, that there was _nothing_ demonic about him. Without thinking, he had leaned toward his partner as he spoke, gently brushing a tear from his cheek. A stab of shocked realization had made him quickly turn it into a fierce hug, but there was no denying to himself what he had originally intended to do. He had hoped Tsuzuki hadn't noticed, but now he knew that wasn't the case.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki said gently, and Hisoka jumped when a warm hand landed on his shoulder. "I know you're nervous. I know this sort of thing scares you. It scares me, too. I'm falling in love with you, Hisoka, and I can't remember ever feeling so strongly about anyone else before. But I'll take this as slowly as you want to. I don't want to scare you off. I've had too many relationships go bad on me in the end. I'll do anything not to let this one go sour, too."

Hisoka folded his arms around himself, feeling exposed. Tsuzuki's hand gently squeezed his shoulder, and through the contact he could feel a warm affection directed at himself. The sensation was both frightening and exhilarating. Tsuzuki had just confessed to loving him, and despite the fear that churned up in response, he very clearly felt his own emotions responding in kind.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said, turning around. His voice was unsteady, and he couldn't quite bring himself to look Tsuzuki in the face. "I'm not ready for anything like this. I don't know when I will be, or if I'll ever be at all. I care for you...very much. I really do. Just...be patient with me. Please. I'm terrified right now. You don't know how much it's costing me not to run from this room as fast as I can."

"I understand," Tsuzuki smiled warmly. "Like I said, I'll take this as slowly as you need me to." His smile widened, and a mirthful sparkle shone in his eyes. "You have every right to beat me senseless if I ever try to take it too quickly for you."

Despite himself, Hisoka smiled back at Tsuzuki's comment.

"Let me try something right now, though," his partner continued. "Just one tiny thing." He brought his hands up again and settled them on both of Hisoka's shoulders. The grip was neither firm nor threatening, but before Hisoka could react, Tsuzuki leaned forward and placed a kiss on the boy's forehead.

Hisoka stiffened, his eyes wide again. The kiss was soft, utterly chaste, but his mouth fell open in shock nonetheless.

Only two people had kissed him before. The first had been Muraki. The mad doctor had forced kisses upon him in a cruel mockery of affection as he ravaged the boy under blood-spattered sakura. The other had been Kakyouin Tsubaki during the assignment on the Queen Camellia. The girl's heart hadn't been in it, though, the kiss being a futile attempt to convince herself she was falling in love with him more than it was anything else. This gentle caress on his forehead was the first genuinely loving kiss Hisoka had ever received from anyone.

When Tsuzuki pulled away, Hisoka quickly stepped back, unable to decide how to respond. Complete astonishment shown brightly in his large eyes.

"Sorry," Tsuzuki said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Too fast, huh?" An apologetic smile was on his face.

"N-no," Hisoka stammered. "I-I mean..." After a few halting attempts to get words out, he sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands. "I need a little while to myself, Tsuzuki. I need to...sort things out."

"Go ahead," Tsuzuki smiled again. "Take however much time you need. Meet me at our desks whenever you're ready to go over the reports from Kyushu."

Hisoka nodded and, without a word further, quickly exited the conference room. To his relief, the emotions he felt coming from Tsuzuki as he left weren't disappointment or rejection, but rather a patient acceptance. It was very strange to feel such a thing coming from Tsuzuki. The dark-haired man wasn't exactly known for his patience in anything, after all. He was apparently determined to be patient for Hisoka, however, and that was a comfort to the younger man.

"Gods, why did he have to bring that up?!" he asked under his breath as he put a fair amount of distance between the two of them. "Couldn't he have waited for a better time?! Why now?!" He knew, however, that there were never any "good" times to bring up things like this, and that sooner or later it would have to come out. Sooner was probably better than later, and Tsuzuki had said he'd been putting off bringing it up for at least a few weeks now. Hisoka suspected he was intentionally underestimating the amount of time he had wanted to talk about this. Likely it was an attempt not to scare Hisoka. The younger shinigami was painfully familiar with being the object of obsession and possessiveness, and Tsuzuki didn't want to remind Hisoka of that in any way. He was grateful to his partner for that consideration.

_Calm down, Hisoka_, his rational side admonished. _You've been aware of his affection for you for quite some time now, and you'd be a complete imbecile not to notice your own affection for him. If you had acknowledged these things before now, instead of squirreling them away in an attempt to retain "control", it's likely your reaction just now wouldn't have been so severe. Nothing builds up tension over something better than refusal to recognize it, after all._

Hisoka sighed, covering his face with his hands. He knew that was exactly the case. His need to completely control his life since his death had made him suppress any unwanted feelings and emotions, and now that he was forced to acknowledge those feelings, he didn't know how to react.

He wished vehemently that his life had been different, that he had been a normal child. It would make all this so much easier to deal with. Then again, if his life had been normal, it was likely that he'd never have crossed paths with Tsuzuki at all.

"I need to get my mind off of this," he said aloud, getting a few curious glances from passers-by. "I need to _do_ something so I don't have to think about this until I've calmed down some."

Four minutes later found him at Konoe's office door. It wasn't closed tightly, which was a signal that he was in his office but was available to talk with someone if they needed anything.

"Kachou?" Hisoka ventured, knocking on the door while pushing it open just enough to stick his head in. "May I come in?"

"Kurosaki-kun," the chief said, acknowledging his presence. "Come on in. Is there something you need?"

"I need your advice, actually," Hisoka said, coming into the office and pushing the door back to its original position.

"Oh, really? On what?"

"I need to find a teacher," Hisoka announced. "I wish to begin studying the healing arts."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Sorry it took over a month to get this written. I wish I could say it's because I was working on that book I'm planning on writing, but I can't. I haven't even started it, actually. Blarg.

This chapter is a little different than I originally planned. For one, Tsuzuki wasn't going to be quite so blunt on his feelings for Hisoka. I hope it didn't come across as too sudden or too soon. I want their relationship to have a realistic growth to it, after all, and that means it can't happen too fast. Tsuzuki's not going to rush Hisoka, though, so I haven't defeated the purpose. He's made his feelings clear, and now is going to let Hisoka move along at his own pace. This story is called "_Slow_ Mend", after all.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed. Leave a review, pretty please. I do so love hearing what you guys have to say.


	6. A Much Needed Break

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Vielen Dank to EggDropSoup, LillianeDeMalvrier, and Guppyvis for reading and reviewing chapter five!

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Six: A Much-Needed Break(?)**

Hisoka rolled his shoulders, attempting to loosen his muscles. His neck and upper back were stiff from sitting bent over the ancient scroll that lay open before him. It was a manuscript on the basics of exorcism, and his teacher had instructed him to read through it thoroughly. Hisoka was glad he had taken the time to study old Japanese; otherwise much of what was written here would be difficult to understand. At least half the kanji were no longer in use in Japanese, and some of the passages looked like they came out of a Chinese book. Aspiring scholar though he was, Hisoka was glad modern Japanese used only about 1,200 kanji, compared to the roughly 12,000 that modern Chinese used.

He had so far read about halfway through the scroll, and had several pages of notes scattered in front of him. He figured it'd be better to take notes and study them later, rather than attempt to remember everything in this (rather large) manuscript. It was a habit he had picked up from school, and wondered why more people didn't have the sense to do the same thing. Then again, he realized that his passion for learning and knowledge wasn't shared by everyone around him. As important as schooling was to the Japanese, it didn't mean everyone was as enthusiastic about it as Hisoka.

_School was your only refuge,_ he thought darkly, rubbing his sore neck. _It was the only haven afforded to you in your hellish life. You're lucky Tousan and Kaasan even allowed you an education. They could have just kept you locked up in that little cell._

Hisoka had been enrolled in a small private school. It wasn't a big-name institution, so it didn't bestow a huge amount of prestige upon its students or staff, but it was better, in Hisoka's parents' minds, than sending him to a larger private school or, even worse, a public school. Hisoka had heard whisperings of how the staff and other students were surprised that the Kurosakis, as wealthy as they were, hadn't sent their son to a more prestigious establishment. He had ignored it. He knew why.

It was easier to keep him out of the public eye in a small, somewhat out-of-the-way school. As much as they feared his abilities, his parents still believed he should be prepared to take his father's place someday, and an education was essential to that. However, they wouldn't stand to risk their son being exposed to the world at large. The family's shame could never be revealed to outsiders. It would destroy their reputation and their standing in the community.

To be honest, Hisoka was glad he had been enrolled in a small school situated away from any large populations. The fewer people that were around him, the less he had to fight to maintain his sanity. When he had started school, he had little experience in shielding his mind, as he was used to the relative emptiness of the Kurosaki estate. As he had gotten older, he had become more skilled in constructing mental shields, until he could walk around in a city as populous as Tokyo with little difficulty, though he still greatly preferred less crowded locations. Even with his shields up, he could still "hear" the clamor of others' thoughts and emotions. Most were blurred and unintelligible though his barriers, but they were still audible. In a large city, it was like he was hearing the cacophony of sound normal people heard, but twice. With fewer people around, it was easier to shut out the empathic sensations entirely.

Breathing a deep sigh, Hisoka turned his attention back to the scroll in front of him. He still had half of it to read and take notes upon, and it was getting late.

It wasn't until he felt the beginnings of a headache that he realized it was becoming too dark to read without a light, and his eyes were straining to do so. He sighed and rubbed between his eyes, reaching for a matchbook that was next to the oil lamp near the middle of the table. In his teacher's traditional house, there were few electric lights, and there were none in this room at all. It reminded him somewhat of home. The Kurosaki estate was very traditional in design--as it was very old--but most rooms had been fitted with electric lighting long before Hisoka had been born.

As he lit the oil lamp, he heard the door behind him slide open.

"Kurosaki-kun," his teacher said, stepping in the room, "you should be getting home. It's nearly dark out." She held a similar lamp in her hand, shielding the flame from any breezes with her other hand.

"I know, but I want to finish reading this," he said, turning around to face her. "I'd probably be done by now, but I've been taking notes on what I read. It always takes longer when I do that."

His teacher laughed, a warm smile on her lips. "Such a serious student. I'm sure your teachers loved you while you were in school."

Hisoka smiled wryly back. "Yeah, they did."

The woman stepped closer to the table, looking down at the scroll and pages of notes. "You've only gotten about halfway through this. Why don't you call it a day and finish this tomorrow? It wouldn't make sense to stay up all night when you don't need to. You do have work tomorrow before your lessons with me, after all."

Hisoka looked down at the papers in front of him and sighed through his nose. He thought of telling his teacher that he often stayed up into the early morning hours reading, but he thought better of it. She did have a good point. He and Tsuzuki were working on an increasingly frustrating case, and he doubted his partner would appreciate him falling into an instantaneous sleep when he was supposed to be the more deductive of the two.

He stood up from the low table, feeling several joints pop as he did so. As he straightened, the irresistible urge to stretch overtook him, and he reached up over his head, arching his back as his entire body shook off the stiffness that had set itself up in his muscles. He yawned, feeling reflexive tears wet his eyelashes.

"There, that's better," his teacher smiled. "Now go on home and get into bed. You have another busy day tomorrow."

"Hai, Sensei," he nodded. "Thank you." He bowed low, thanking her for her graciousness in taking him as a student, like he always did when they parted. He had been under her instruction for over three weeks now, but he still thanked her after every session. She had told him repeatedly that it wasn't necessary, but he still felt compelled to do it. He supposed it was part of the formal behavior that had been ingrained upon him in life that was responsible.

Hisoka gathered up his notes and pen from the table, leaving the scroll where it was so he could continue where he left off after work tomorrow. Following his teacher to the front door, he went over in his head some of what he had just read. The incorrigible knowledge-monger in him didn't seem ready to turn in for the night just yet.

He bowed and thanked her again at the door, then turned and set off down the stone walkway toward the front gate of her property. The gardens surrounding the house were modest, but immaculately kept. There was a small pond near the gate, and he could see several koi swimming around, their white patches glimmering faintly in the light of the rising moon. One of his favorite pastimes as a child had been watching the koi in the ponds of his home, and he smiled slightly as he remembered the rare moments of tranquility he had experienced while doing so.

Yawning again, he tucked the papers and pen into the small messenger bag he had brought with him, and pushed through the front gate. His teacher's house was only a short distance from his apartment, so he opted to walk rather than translocating.

_I wonder what Tsuzuki's doing right now?_ he thought. Three weeks ago, such a thought would have stopped him in his tracks, and indeed it had quite a few times. Now, however, he had gotten used to the random thoughts concerning his partner. Tsuzuki had made good on his promise not to push Hisoka into anything. Since his confession that he was developing strong feelings for the boy, Tsuzuki had acted perfectly normal toward his partner. Indeed, sometimes Hisoka wondered if the whole thing hadn't been some messed-up dream, but then all he had to do was read Tsuzuki's emotions to know that it hadn't been. The tender feelings Tsuzuki held for him were muted, the older shinigami thoughtfully keeping them in check, but there was no denying that they were there. Hisoka was exceedingly grateful that Tsuzuki was keeping to his promise, and the intermittent wonderings on his whereabouts and activities were starting to become routine for the younger shinigami.

Hisoka knew that, deep down, there was a part of him that shared Tsuzuki's desires. Somewhere in his very core, he wanted a romantic relationship with the chocolate-haired man. The thought of becoming partners in more than just a work-related sense greatly appealed to this deeply-buried aspect of his personality. However, most of him still quailed at the idea, and he wasn't sure how he would react if Tsuzuki wasn't being quite so considerate of his feelings. He, out of necessity, had shut himself off from the world for so long, that the mere possibility of willingly letting someone get so close to him was terrifying.

He still didn't know where exactly he stood on the subject, but it had been less than a month since that conversation in the conference room. Something told him he wouldn't know his position on this for quite some time yet.

_I should stop thinking about this,_ he thought. _I'll _never_ get to sleep if I keep running _this_ through my head._

* * *

Tsuzuki sighed and leaned back in his chair. They were no closer to figuring out who or what was behind the kidnappings and murders in Kyushu than they were when they had been given the assignment. It wasn't a normal case to be left to the human police, as the reports made to the Meifu authorities indicated the lingering presence of some supernatural or magical processes inflicted upon the bodies. Hisoka's ability to sense the presence of such things had confirmed the indications to him and Tsuzuki, and they had been on the trail--or had been _trying_ to get on the trail--of the perpetrator almost since they had returned to field operations nearly a month ago. They had been back in the field barely three days before this all began. So much for starting out with light assignments.

Hisoka looked up over his coffee cup as he took a sip. There was definite frustration in that sigh, but he could blame Tsuzuki for it. He was on the verge of frustration himself, and he was considerably more patient than his partner. There were almost no clues to go on at any of the crime scenes, the responsible party being uncommonly careful to cover their tracks.

The green-eyed shinigami looked over the summarization he had compiled of the victims. There was no apparent pattern in how the targets were chosen. Whether they were male or female, rich or poor, seemed to be completely at random, as well as their ages. One was as young as twelve years old, and one was nearly fifty. The (so far) four others were all somewhere within that rather wide age bracket. There were also both consistencies and inconsistencies in what had been done to them. Some of them were tortured, some weren't; some had been raped, some hadn't; some had the lingering traces of different curses upon them, some were just the victims of a rather sadistic type of torture magic. There was no common M.O. that connected them all, and neither he nor Tsuzuki was certain if it was one or more people responsible, or even if the individual incidents should be considered part of the same case or not. Considering the minimal connections between the victims, it was possible at least some of them were completely unrelated to the others and should be investigated separately.

_There isn't so much as even __DNA__ evidence left behind, even with those that have been raped,_ Hisoka thought, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. Their correspondence with the police had told them as much. That road to identifying the perpetrator was currently blocked. Though shinigami had their own methods and procedures, sometimes it was prudent to communicate with local law enforcement, or even work in tandem with them, to solve a case. No pathway to a solution should be left unexplored. Unfortunately, in this case, there didn't seem to be _any_ pathways to a solution currently open, either to police or to shinigami.

"I haven't had this much trouble with a single case since before you came along, Hisoka," Tsuzuki sighed, sitting up straight and putting a hand on the papers in front of him. "Whoever's behind this is unusually proficient in leaving behind as little evidence as possible. There's usually _something_ to go by."

"Usually, but not here," Hisoka nodded, putting his coffee cup down. "Most times, if it's a demon or something like that, they don't cover their tracks so well. They're too arrogant and convinced of their own strength and/or cleverness to think we could possibly stop them. But if it's a human, you wouldn't expect traces of magic or curses to be present. Very few humans have access to that kind of power, after all."

"So we're either dealing with an unusually cautious demon or a human with magical knowledge," Tsuzuki said, sounding almost bored. It was the same conversation had had time after time while working on this case, and they always came to the same conclusion. There wasn't anything particularly revealing or helpful in this train of thought.

"Mmhm," they boy nodded again, absently petting 003. Watari had exploded his lab again, and the tiny owl had retreated to Hisoka and Tsuzuki to avoid the smoke and fumes. She made a small sound of contentment at the attention.

Tsuzuki leaned his elbows on his desk, his head in his hands. It was always wise, when an investigation was stalled like this, to look at everything from a different angle and try to see something you had missed or ignored before. He and Hisoka had already looked at this case from seemingly every possible angle, however, and they had found nothing. There _had_ to be _something_ they were overlooking! The hard part was finding out what it was.

_BAM_

Hisoka yelped, hot coffee slopping out of his cup and into his lap, which just elicited another cry from him, this one of pain and indignation. He had just picked up the cup to take another drink when a door behind him was suddenly flung open, banging against the wall and making them both jump in surprise.

"Hi-so-ka-kuuuuun!"

The hair on the back of Hisoka's neck stood up. _Oh, this is _so_ not a good time!_

Torii Saya and Fukiya Yuma rushed into the room and flung themselves at Hisoka, squealing about how good he was looking and how they had missed their little dress-up doll and how they were so happy to see him healthy and whole again. Through the sudden explosion of thoughts and their incessant pawing at him, however, their voices blurred together, making them sound like a couple of overexcited squirrels. It was only a few seconds before he had had enough.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, _LEAVE ME ALONE!!!_" he bellowed, jumping up from his chair and flinging them off of him. He purposely shoved them toward Tsuzuki, hoping they would glom onto him instead of coming back for Hisoka.

"Aw, Hisoka-kun's in a bad mood," Saya pouted, chewing on a fingernail.

"Fine, we _won't_ say hello!" Yuma clipped, giving Hisoka an indignant look. And before Hisoka could respond to either statement, they promptly turned to Tsuzuki and nearly tacked him out of his chair.

"Aw, I missed my girls!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, returning their vice-like hug. He could be just as irredeemably cheerful as they always were, and when the three of them got together they tended to make an intolerable amount of noise. Hisoka flinched, thickening his mental shields and covering his ears, trying to block out the deluge of squealing.

Their exaggerated greeting was over with in less than thirty seconds, but to Hisoka it seemed like an hour.

"What are you two doing down here?" Tsuzuki asked. He was smiling. A visit from distant friends seemed to be just the thing he needed to make him forget his frustration with the current assignment.

"Saya-chan and I have the day off, so we came to see you!" Yuma answered. The two of them, being stationed in Hokkaido, were often snowed in and didn't show up at Enmachou as often as those from the mainland or the southern islands. They had heard about the disaster in Kyoto but had been unable to come south to visit Tsuzuki and Hisoka while they recuperated. This was the first time they had been able to come see their friends, and their level of excitement was noticeably higher than normal.

_You'd think we hadn't seen each other in a decade,_ Hisoka mentally growled. In truth, however, he could understand their situation. It must have been horrible to know that two of their friends had almost died, but be unable to visit them and make sure they were all right. He supposed he could forgive them their excessive enthusiasm. Just this once.

"How's it going on your current case, Tsuzuki-san?" Saya asked.

Tsuzuki grimaced. "Not good," he said, casting an almost spiteful glance at the reports. "We have six victims so far, and no leads. Whoever's behind this is very, very good at what they do."

"And very prolific, too," Hisoka added, rejoining the group. "Six victims in less than a month. Most serial killers aren't so bold."

Saya and Yuma didn't immediately respond. They just looked at each other, as if what the two men had said confused them.

"What?" Hisoka asked. An alarm went off in his head at that look.

"Nobody's told you?" Saya asked, sounding incredulous.

"Told us what?"

"That other shinigami are on the case," Yuma said. "Incidents similar to the ones you're dealing with have happened in other areas, too. Not as many as in Kyushu, but they've definitely happened outside your jurisdiction. The higher-ups can't help but assume it's the same person or people behind them all, because they're so alike."

Tsuzuki and Hisoka stared at the girls, completely speechless. The youngest of the four was the first to break the silence.

"Is there no communication between areas?!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist on his desk, making his coffee cup rattle and startling 003. "Why hasn't anyone told us about this?!"

Tsuzuki looked down at the papers in front of him, his brow furrowed. He said nothing.

"Kachou should have told us something, if no one else!" Hisoka raged on. "What, are they pitting us against each other in a race to see who can solve it first?!"

"Calm down, Hisoka-kun," Saya said, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm sure that's not true."

Hisoka just snarled in reply. "We could be working with the other teams on this! Four or six heads are better than two!"

"Eight," Yuma corrected. "Similar incidents have happened in three other areas. Two or three in each, I think. They're all in southern or central Japan. Nothing's happened north of Watari-san's area--"

"Watari's in on this, too?!" Hisoka interrupted. "Why hasn't _he_ told us anything?!"

"You know how absentminded he is," Yuma chastened him. "And he's formally stationed there, but he doesn't go out into the field very often."

"Right," Tsuzuki nodded. "Kirabayashi-san and Uetani-san usually take care of field operations in Henjouchou." Watari was a bit of an odd duck in Shoukanka, as he was a shinigami, yet he wasn't normally involved in assignments in the area he was officially stationed in. Instead, he spent most of his time in Enmachou doing lab work and manning the infirmary.

"That still doesn't explain why we were completely unaware that we weren't the only ones on the case," Hisoka huffed, crossing his arms in irritation. "And how come you guys know about it when you're all the way up in Hokkaido?! Are we the _only_ ones who didn't know?!"

Saya and Yuma shrugged almost in unison. "Seems like it. Maybe you two were just left out of the loop by accident," Saya suggested.

"How can they _accidentally_ leave us out of the loop when we're the ones dealing with most of the incidents?!" Hisoka nearly exploded, finding the insinuation absurd. "And for almost a month?! What the hell?!"

"Hisoka, will you please calm down?!" Tsuzuki suddenly snapped, slapping the desk with his open palm to emphasize the command.

The boy looked at him in surprise. It wasn't often Tsuzuki took that tone with him. It signified one of those rare occurrences when Hisoka's cantankerousness actually succeeded in getting on Tsuzuki's nerves. He was obviously frustrated with the current case, and likely unhappy with the revelation that they weren't alone in it. A tantrum from Hisoka was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

"For now, all we can do is assume it was a mistake," he continued, a harsh edge still in his tone. "Stop crying about it and focus on where to go from here."

Hisoka looked down at his feet. It was a rare occasion indeed when Tsuzuki chastised him like that. Maybe he _was_ just overreacting...

"If most of the incidents are happening in Kyushu," Tsuzuki said, "then it's probable that's where those who are responsible live. Or maybe it's _not_ where they live, and they're operating in an area outside of their own to minimize the chances they'll be caught." He paused for a moment, his eyes lidded. He seemed deep in thought. "Or maybe..."

"What?" Hisoka asked when Tsuzuki didn't finish the sentence. "Or maybe what?"

"You don't suppose," the older shinigami began slowly, looking up at his partner, "that maybe _he's_ involved in this...?"

Hisoka's eyes immediately flashed. "No," he said, conviction and exasperation in his voice. "Don't get all paranoid on me, Tsuzuki. We can't just assume that everything bad happening in Japan is his fault. It'd be ridiculous to believe so."

"It'd also be ridiculous to believe he wouldn't be active just because he hasn't shown himself," Tsuzuki countered. "For all we know, he was back to normal before we were. You can't just rule him out on a hunch, Hisoka!"

"And you can't just assume it _is_ him on a hunch, Tsuzuki!" Hisoka fired back. He wasn't going to admit that Tsuzuki had a point, and he definitely wasn't going to tell his partner that Muraki was recovering--or perhaps has already recovered--with help from Hisoka's own energy.

"Um...who are you talking about?" Saya asked. She and Yuma looked disconcerted by the guys' argument.

"Muraki," Hisoka answered. "Muraki Kazutaka. Tsuzuki's afraid he's come back." Hisoka didn't even want to _consider_ that Muraki might be back already. After all that had happened, that would be too much. He had to believe he'd have some sort of reprieve from the demented surgeon. He'd soon go insane if he didn't.

"Oh," Yuma said. "Well, from what we've heard, Muraki could make anyone paranoid, right?"

Hisoka turned his glare on her, as if to say, _You're__ no help_.

Silence reigned in the office, none of them looking at each other. The guys were busy brooding over recent developments, and the girls looked embarrassed that they had seemingly ruined the day.

Tsuzuki spoke first. "To think I thought I'd be _happy_ to get a break in this case."

"We _haven't_ gotten a break in this case," Hisoka countered, eyeing Tsuzuki reproachfully. "Just a paranoid assumption."

"It's a possibility, Hisoka! The kind of magic involved, and with so many victims in such a short time...!"

"Tsuzuki, _enough_! I don't want to talk about this!" Hisoka was nearly shouting, and his face had turned a bright shade of pink. He was obviously very upset.

"Hisoka..." Tsuzuki began, his gaze softening.

"Hey, you two!" Yuma suddenly cut in, clapping her hands to get their attention. "It's our fault you're fighting, so let us make it up to you. How about we all go to lunch together? Our treat!" She put her arm around Saya's neck and pulled them together, indicating that Saya was also offering to pay. The smile on her partner's face indicated that she didn't seem put out by the idea.

Neither of the men answered immediately. Hisoka just sighed, staring down at the floor again.

"Okay," Tsuzuki said at length. "That'd be nice." His normal enthusiasm at the prospect of food was absent, making his acceptance of the invitation sound terribly strange.

Hisoka nodded slowly.

"O-_kay_!" Yuma chirped.

"Let's go then!" Saya added, and they leapt toward the other two shinigami and began ushering them both toward the door.

"We know _just_ the place to take you!"

"It has the _best_ apple pie!"

"And chocolate cake, too!"

"Let's go shopping afterwards!"

"Yes! It's been so long since we dressed Hisoka-kun up!"

"We'll make you look so cute, Hisoka-kun!"

"Oh, _gods_, no!" Hisoka protested, shuddering at the thought of being stuffed into a bunch of lacey, overly cute dresses. "You are _not_ going to dress me up! Stop touching me, goddamnit...!"

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** It is done, and much longer than I thought it would be. I've noticed this is also the first chapter to have more than one scene in it. I had originally intended for each chapter to only have one scene in it, but the first scene in this chapter is so short, I didn't want to make it the entire chapter. Scene two had much more happen in it than I intended. My writing usually turns out that way. It's as if my fingers are typing by themselves without any input from me.

Again, sorry there was such a large interval between the last chapter and this one. I'm afraid this might become a normal occurrence. And again, I don't have the book I'm planning to write to blame. I'm just being a lazy-ass. I guess I'll just have to ask you guys to be patient waiting for updates, and hope I don't lose too many readers in the process.

Leave a review, if it strikes your fancy. I sincerely hope it does. Feedback is a drug for me, and I'm going through withdrawal.


	7. Extraction

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Many thanks to EggDropSoup, Syeroix, sess18, Guppyvis, mooopower, Positive Apathy, arcanelight, atomic-oblaat, moo, Saruvi, becauseimthefavorite, and Renkin-chan for reading and reviewing chapter six! I'm so very sorry for keeping you all waiting so long for chapter seven. Bad Annie-chan.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Seven: Extraction**

"Mmnnrrrrrgh..."

Hisoka groaned painfully as he regained consciousness. The last thing he remembered was Tsuzuki's cry of alarm, followed immediately by a crushing blow to the back of his head. Now, he was lying awkwardly on a hard surface in a very uncomfortable position, and he felt his joints protest sharply as he tried to move.

He soon realized that his head was the worst of his injuries. An intense, hammering pain shot through his skull at the slightest attempt at movement, and he had to bite back a cry as he fell back to the floor. It felt like his head was being crushed in a vise.

After an indeterminate amount of time lying as still as he could, Hisoka attempted movement again. His joints still ached, and his head still pounded, but he found he could move without agony shooting through him. Slowly, he rolled over onto his front and pushed his torso up, pulling his knees under him and raising his hips as well. On all fours, he took a few breaths, then stood upright on his knees. Slight dizziness assailed him, but he managed to stay vertical until it passed.

Raising his hand, he gingerly felt around the back of his head. Dried blood caked his hair, and he winced as he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot. The skin was smooth, the bone underneath unbroken, so the physical wound had healed completely. The pain, however, still lingered, indicating that it had been a devastating injury indeed. He vaguely remembered the crunch of shattering bone accompanied by the wetness of spraying blood. As serious as the wound appeared to be, he wouldn't be surprised if some brain matter had been ejected as well. A living human would have suffered instant death with an impact that severe.

His forehead also ached, and he figured that it was either due to the internal ricochet of the brain within the skull, or he had smacked his forehead on something as he pitched forward. It was only slight, almost unnoticeable compared to the back of his head, so he only gave it a brief thought.

Slowly, making sure he didn't fall over again, he checked himself over. There were no pains or blood anywhere else on him, indicating that the blow to the head had been the only damage. Inwardly, he sighed in relief. He loathed the idea of something happening to him while he was unconscious and unable to defend himself.

Swallowing thickly, his throat dry, he looked around himself, finally noticing that he wasn't where he and Tsuzuki had last been. Rather, he wasn't _quite_ there. He was inside the same medium-sized, largely empty storeroom of the condemned office building they had chased their quarry into. Everything around him was softened by a bluish-black overtone, however, and every so often things seemed to jerk violently, as if he were looking at a television that was receiving a weak signal.

_I'm between dimensions_, he realized. _Well, sort of._ He was no longer within the physical realm, but not quite in the void between the worlds, either. It was if he were suspended in some kind of membrane surrounding the living world, both in and out of it at the same time. He would be able to touch and interact with objects, but the corresponding objects in the physical realm would be unaffected. People in Hisoka's position and those fully in the physical realm were invisible to each other, and neither one could affect the other in any way. He had been in this half-world only once before, and he didn't like it the slightest bit.

"Finally awake, I see," a raspy, inhuman voice said from behind him, and he jumped in surprise. He hadn't sensed anyone around him, though he wasn't quite sure if his empathy would function normally in this place. Little else seemed to, so his empathy may not, either.

Turning around as quickly as he could without getting dizzy and falling, Hisoka twisted his upper body to look behind him. Then he looked up. On a stack of old cardboard boxes sat a small figure, only a little taller than himself and just as slight.

"You," he said quietly, his green eyes narrowing. The thing he and Tsuzuki had been pursuing sat grinning at him, a look of smug triumph on its face.

Nanakawa Minae was her name, though he knew the being he was looking at wasn't really the bright, cheerful college senior. Tsuzuki and Hisoka had been sent to Kagoshima in the southern part of Kyushu because of reports of a demon running loose in the area. As the two of them soon found out, this demon had become dangerously obsessed with Minae and was aggressively stalking her. Upon realizing that two shinigami were pursuing it, the demon had attacked Minae and her fiancé, killing Yanagisawa Shuuhei and possessing Minae's body. In the ensuing battle and subsequent chase, they had ended up in this condemned building, and Hisoka had soon after found himself here, separated from his partner and suffering a great deal of pain.

"Why are you doing this?" Hisoka demanded, slowly getting to his feet. "Why are you causing these people so much trouble? You know for a fact that Nanakawa-san would never accept you." He knew common sense rarely worked on third wheels in love triangles, human or demon, but he felt he at least had to try.

"Why should I care?" not-Minae replied with a toothy grin, its voice a throaty distortion of the girl's. "Since when am I concerned with the girl's consent?"

Hisoka felt a rush of anger shudder through him. Taking people against their will, sexually or otherwise, was a very sore spot with the young shinigami, for obvious reasons.

"But why possess her?" he asked, managing to keep the angry tremble from his voice. He knew showing any form of upset would only amuse the demon. "Why are you putting such a strain on her body? You know that demonic possession is a terrible risk to the victim's life."

"To keep her with me," the demon said, as if that were obvious. "Once I've dealt with you two rats, she'll be all mine. I'll give her back her body, and I'll be free to do with her as I please."

"Human beings are not toys for your pleasure!" Hisoka shouted, his anger briefly getting the best of him.

The demon only smiled wider, amused by the shinigami's outburst.

Quickly reining his temper in, realizing his slipup, Hisoka spoke again through his teeth, his eyes burning with green fire. "What do you want with me? Why did you bring me here?"

"Because you're the weaker of the two," the demon explained. "Overpowering your partner would be quite a task, and I'd rather avoid it if I can. You're here to help me do that."

"So, I'm a hostage," Hisoka concluded. "You plan to use me as a shield to get Tsuzuki to back off."

"That is correct," the demon nodded, as if it were a teacher addressing a class. "Poor Tsuzuki-san is running around, trying desperately to find you. I daresay he's come near to tears a few times."

Hisoka sighed inwardly. He hated the idea of Tsuzuki--sensitive, caring Tsuzuki--getting so worried over him. He had to get out of this trap, and soon.

He jerked backward, almost falling to the ground in shock when the demon appeared right in front of him, just a few inches separating them.

"You're such a pretty boy, though," the demon purred, its voice low and dripping with a sick hunger. "It wouldn't hurt to play with you a bit before we go meet your Tsuzuki-san." The next second, too quickly for Hisoka to react, the girl-demon's lips were crushing against his own, an agile tongue thrusting deep into his mouth. Greedy fingers groped between his legs, squeezing him painfully through his jeans. His back hit something hard and uneven, the demon having shoved him back against a pile of discarded office equipment.

The boy's eyes widened impossibly, his body going completely stiff. Sudden memories assaulted his mind's eye, and with them came a rush of searing panic.

___Bloody sakura...red moon...cold ground hands on me painpainPAINohgodsGETHIMOFFME_--

Without thinking, Hisoka sank his teeth into the thing's tongue, blood instantly flooding his mouth. The demon shrieked in pain and surprise, wrenching away with an angry hiss.

The boy spat the blood on the ground and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, a look of sheer hatred in his eyes. "Don't you _touch_ me!" he snarled, his teeth bared like an angry dog's.

"Oh _ho_, you have some spirit in you," the demon grinned, blood trickling from the corner of its mouth. "You'll be more fun to break than I expected. How exciting!"

Hisoka glared defiantly at his opponent, standing his ground. He had to get the demon out of Minae, or risk her body collapsing and dying under the strain of supernatural power it had never been built to harness.

_This is what I've been training for_, he thought, though he felt immediate apprehension. He had been studying for almost two months now, and his teacher had praised him on how quickly he was picking things up, but he had never attempted an exorcism out on the field before. That, and the fact that most exorcists received training for at least a few _years_ made him doubt his ability to pull this off successfully.

He needed someone to help him, but who? He at first thought of Tsuzuki, who he had seen exorcise Minase Hijiri on one of their first cases together. Then he realized that no, it hadn't been an actual exorcism. He had summoned Byakko to combat Sargatanus when the demon had come out of the boy on its own accord. A true exorcism would have banished the demon to its own realm, and Hisoka clearly remembered how _that_ had worked out.

There was no one near him who could reliably combat the leering demon, and even if there had been, he wasn't sure how he'd get to them. He had yet to look for a way out of this half-dimension, and just breaking out into the physical world might take a lot of effort from him, leaving him even less prepared to fight than he was now.

_I have to try_, he thought, a grim look in his emerald eyes. _No, not try. I have to _do_ it._

"Oh?" the demon questioned, one eyebrow raising as if in interest. "We have something up our sleeve, do we?"

Hisoka did, literally, have something up his sleeve. Reaching up under the arms of his jacket and shirt, he pulled something out that had apparently been riding next to his forearm. It was black, and the faint flutter of paper could be heard as it was extracted.

It was a fuda. Ironically, after his failure with fuda magic, the field of study that Hisoka was much better suited for _also_ used fuda, but this was noticeably different. Unlike the ones Tsuzuki wielded, this one was black ink on black paper, the elegant calligraphy invisible while the spell was at rest. However, as Hisoka channeled his energy into the paper, muttering a string of activating words that his teacher had made him memorize, the dramatic ink strokes became visible, glowing an intense shade of blue. Around the border of the fuda was a design made up of twisted lines, like a vine surrounding the powerful words. These glowed with a bright white light, a silver shimmer occasionally passing through them.

"An exorcist!" the demon exclaimed as Hisoka finished the incantation, causing the fuda to fairly throb with energy. The thing's voice was not afraid, however. It sounded rather thrilled, actually. It apparently found the idea of facing off with someone who could forcibly yank it out of its host to be exciting.

"You picked the wrong shinigami to take hostage," Hisoka growled, showing much more confidence than he felt. Holding the fuda upright between his thumb and forefinger, he let go. The paper stayed where it was, suspended in midair before his open palm. The first step was to get the fuda _on_ the demon, which Hisoka figured was much more easily said than done. Not trusting his ability to remotely control the fuda's movements, he took a deep breath and lunged forward.

* * *

"HISOKA!" Tsuzuki called, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. For what seemed like hours, though in actuality had been less than one, he had torn around the abandoned office building, searching desperately for his partner.

He had seen the attack coming, but was unable to do more than cry out in alarm before Hisoka had been dealt a devastating blow to the head. The crunch of bone and erupting fountain of blood had made him sick, and to his dismay, the demon they were after had wrapped its arms around the boy and disappeared. He had neither felt nor seen anything of his partner since.

Frantically running and translocating from room to room and floor to floor was beginning to take its toll on him, and he could feel sweat trickling down the side of his face. His breathing was labored, and his heart hammered in his chest. Despite their inhuman strength and healing abilities, shinigami were just as susceptible to fatigue as their mortal counterparts were. Tsuzuki's desperate state of mind wasn't helping any, either.

He knew Hisoka could take care of himself, but his injury would likely hamper him considerably. Tsuzuki was deeply worried how his partner would fare against the demon, and all sorts of unsavory possibilities had been running continuously through his head as he searched.

Stopping to catch his breath, the chocolate-haired man realized that he was back in the storeroom where Hisoka had been attacked. It was just the same as before, and Tsuzuki felt his stomach clench at the sight of the blood spatter on the floor and walls near where Hisoka had been struck. He turned back toward the door he had entered, but before he could leave the grisly sight behind, he felt a sudden, faint pulse. It was weak, almost undetectable, but he was sure it was energy being given off by a shinigami executing some sort of spell. More importantly, it was unmistakably that of his young partner.

"Hisoka...?!"

* * *

"HA! You missed!" the demon gloated as it nimbly danced out of the way. It hooked Hisoka's shin with its foot, sending the shinigami into an ungraceful tumble to the hard floor.

Hisoka hissed in pain. His body was still achy from lying on the floor for he didn't know how long, and the pain in his head suddenly exploded upon him again. The world spun, and he fought down the urge to vomit.

He groaned painfully, pushing himself back up. He had to use one hand, as the other was currently "holding" the fuda. Nevertheless, he wobbled shakily to his feet, determination burning in his eyes.

"You're not nearly as fast as me with your injuries," the demon scoffed. "Why bother even trying?"

"You don't know me very well if you think I'm just going to give up," Hisoka bit back, thrusting the fuda out in front of him again. It felt like he was holding a ball of raw nuclear energy, and he tried to ignore the worrying thought that he wouldn't be able to contain the spell for very long. He didn't know what would happen if an exorcising spell were to violently disperse into its surroundings, but he was pretty sure that he didn't want to find out.

There was one thing he could try, though he was loath to do it. He knew what it felt like, and wasn't too keen on inflicting it on someone else, even if they were a demon. He supposed his unwillingness to use it on even a demon was because of _who_ such a maneuver reminded him of, the boy instinctively shying away from anything that brought that particular person to mind. But with Nanakawa Minae's life hanging in the balance, and a volatile spell throbbing in his hands, he didn't have much time to deliberate his options.

_I'll do it_, he decided, setting his jaw. In truth, he wasn't sure if he _could_ do it, as he had always been on the receiving end, but he had to try it all the same. Empathy was only one of his mental abilities, and though it was the only one he was familiar with, he had to trust himself to pull this off right.

Sucking in a breath to steel himself, he lunged forward once more. The demon grinned widely and made to dodge again.

Gathering as much psychic energy as he could, Hisoka lashed out with his mind, striking the demon head on and delivering a mental punch directly to the demon's psyche.

The creature howled in sudden pain, clutching at its head and staggering back. Hisoka took full advantage and slammed his palm against the demon's chest, the pulsing fuda adhering immediately. The demon gave another cry and shoved him away, almost knocking him to the ground.

Hisoka paused for a few seconds to catch his breath. Images of an impossibly pale individual flashed through his mind, the doctor's self-satisfied smirk standing out prominently. Muraki had used that same mental assault against Hisoka a number of times, mainly to stun him and make the boy more cooperative. The first time had been underneath a sakura tree stained red, the sweet scent of the blossoms mixing sickeningly with the coppery smell of blood. Shuddering, he pushed that memory as far away as possible.

A blow to the face brought him out of his dark reverie, and he stumbled backward, barely keeping his balance. He tasted blood, and realized he had cut his lip on his teeth.

"You little bastard!" the demon snarled, clutching at the fuda as it burned into its chest. The magic-infused paper refused to budge, repelling any attempts to forcefully remove it, clinging stubbornly to the unholy being it was affixed to.

Hisoka stepped forward, determined to finish what he started, but halted when the demon growled a warning. "_Fine_, then! I'll kill you. It's the only way to get this damned thing off me!"

"If you kill me, you won't have your hostage anymore," Hisoka retorted. "You'll have to face Tsuzuki all by yourself, and I can't guarantee he'll be very easy to deal with after finding out I'm dead."

"Shut up!" the demon screeched, advancing on the boy. "_I'll rip your fucking guts out!_"

Despite the pain in his head and joints, Hisoka managed to sidestep the demon's lunge, catching it by the hair and spinning it around to face him. The fuda on the thing's chest had dissolved into a cracking, swirling hole, as if a dimensional portal had opened up directly on the girl's possessed body. Without hesitation, Hisoka plunged his hand into the hole, shoving in as far as he could go and getting a firm grip on what he found there. Putting all the strength into it that he could, he started to pull.

"NO!" the demon shrieked. "NO! NO! _LET GO!_" It struggled, but the pain of being grabbed and forcibly extracted from its host was crippling it, reducing its struggles to aimless thrashing and seemingly impossible contortions.

Despite this, Hisoka met with a great deal of resistance. He was jerked forward, almost crashing into the flailing body as the demon tried to pull away. Planting his feet, he gripped Minae by the shoulder and pulled harder. He was muttering a series of incantations, some to weaken the demon's hold on the girl and others to safeguard Minae herself, guarding against physical or spiritual damage as the demon was forced to let go of her. This was one of the most basic, hands-on methods of exorcism, but it was the only one Hisoka had studied in depth at this point. It posed considerable danger to both the exorcist and the victim of possession, but Hisoka had not yet learned the complicated manipulations that constituted other, more advanced techniques. He had no choice but to do this, risking both his own life and that of the girl he was trying to save. It was better than letting her die in the clutches of a demon, or worse, survive to become its plaything.

The demon lashed out at him, the girl's manicured fingernails gouging into his face and neck, drawing thin lines of blood over his pale skin. Hisoka hissed in pain, but held on. Raw, unrestrained power, both his and the demon's, whipped the air around them into a whirlwind, buffeting the abandoned office equipment and stacks of crates and boxes with almost hurricane force. Hisoka's honey-blond hair was nearly blinding him as his voice rose to a shout, rasping painfully in his dry throat. The energy pouring from the portal in the girl's chest was steeply increasing, arcing over to Hisoka and burning his skin wherever it touched him. The boy gave a wordless shout, pulling against the demon with all his worth.

The resistance suddenly gave way. Like a weed whose roots had finally relinquished their hold on the earth, the demon's clutches suddenly slipped from Minae's soul. Hisoka was flung backwards, not anticipating the change, and landed flat on his back several feet from Minae. The girl, free of the oppressing presence, collapsed to the floor, limp as a rag doll.

Hisoka now found himself with a flailing mass of energy in his hand, the demon now having no physical form of its own, having been torn free of its host body. The black fuda was between Hisoka's palm and where he gripped the demon, still throbbing visibly with the spell contained within. The demon snarled murderously, twisting fiercely in the shinigamis hold. It seemed to be trying to enter Hisoka's body, but the young empath would have none of it. Bringing his free hand up in front of his face, he executed a simple but powerful hand gesture, his first two fingers standing upright from his clenched fist.

"BEGONE!" he all but screamed, throwing all his remaining strength into the final part of the exorcism ritual. An unearthly wail filled the air, the power writhing in his grasp shuddered violently, and then everything stopped.

Hisoka collapsed back to the floor, all his strength drained from him. _I did it_, he thought tiredly, feeling his consciousness begin to fade.

The bluish-black haze around him dissolved as he was ejected back into the physical realm. His surroundings became clearer, more solid, and Hisoka was suddenly much more aware of gravity as it pressed him down into the floor.

"Hisoka!" a familiar voice exclaimed, and then Tsuzuki was within his field of vision, bending over his exhausted partner. Worry and relief mingled freely in his violet eyes.

"Tsuzuki..." Hisoka muttered, relief also washing through him as he realized who was hovering over him. His strength gave out at that moment, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Oy, Hisoka! Are you awake?"

Hisoka groaned low in his throat, squinting his eyes shut against the light. The room he was in was lit dimly, but even that felt painfully bright compared to the blackness he had just risen out of. After a moment, he managed to blink his eyes open, though he still had to raise his hand to block out the worst of the brightness.

"Hey," his partner's voice said to his right. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mmhm," Hisoka replied vaguely, pushing himself up onto one elbow. He looked over at Tsuzuki, who was sitting in a chair next to his bed. The older shinigami had a look of concern mixed with relief on his face, and he was watching his young partner intently, as if looking for signs of illness or injury. "I'm...I'm back?"

"Yep," Tsuzuki affirmed. "You're in Enmachou's infirmary. You passed out right after you reappeared in the storeroom, so I brought you here as soon as I could." A proud smile then crossed his face. "Congratulations, Hisoka. You've just pulled off your first successful exorcism."

Hisoka lay back down, feeling incredibly exhausted. That's right, he had succeeded in driving the demon from Nanakawa Minae's body. Well, more like _yanking_ it from her, but the result was the same.

"And Nanakawa-san," he said, looking at his partner, "is she all right?"

Tsuzuki looked away briefly before answering. "Nanakawa-san is dead." His voice was quiet, as if he were hesitant to give the somber news over to his partner.

"Dead?!" Hisoka gasped, his eyes widening. So, the possession and exorcism _had_ been too much for her to handle. She had probably died soon after the demon had been extracted. He raised his hands to his face, covering his eyes. "Dead..."

"You did all you could, Hisoka," Tsuzuki reassured him. "If you hadn't acted when you did, things could have turned out much worse."

"I know," Hisoka said quietly, his voice trembling very slightly. "I know, but--!"

"Hey, it's okay," his partner soothed, a hand touching his shoulder. Through that touch, Hisoka could feel his partner's sympathy coming through quite clearly. It calmed him a little bit.

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki," Hisoka muttered, sniffing. "I knew it was possible that she'd die. In fact, because of my inexperience, I practically expected her to. I just...I just can't _stand_ the thought of someone dying because of me!"

"She didn't die because of you," Tsuzuki countered firmly. "She died because of the demon. Considering the circumstances, things turned out for the best. Nanakawa-san has peacefully crossed over, and she and Yanagisawa-san are together again. If she had died under the demon's thrall, she likely would have been dragged down to Hell with it, or something just as bad." He squeezed his partner's shoulder. "You did good, Hisoka."

Hisoka nodded minutely, though he closed his eyes and allowed a few tears to slip through. His regret over Minae's death coupled with his nearly overwhelming exhaustion was too much to hold in entirely. He swallowed the lump in his throat, determined not to lose control too much.

Tsuzuki watched Hisoka silently. The boy hated the idea of a human being losing their life because of something he had done. The situation right now was similar to the one on the _Queen Camellia_ some years back, when Kakyouin Tsubaki had asked Hisoka to end her life. Killing her was a mercy, as it spared her from suffering a slow death from the gunshot wound Muraki had inflicted upon her, yet Hisoka had broken down in tears when Tsuzuki and Tatsumi had pulled him from the burning ship. He had begun to think of the girl as a friend, and having her life on his hands had been too much for the fledgling shinigami to handle. Now, Nanakawa Minae had died, but thanks to Hisoka's actions, she was free of the demon's influence. Like Tsubaki, Hisoka had helped Minae in the long run, but at the cost of her young life.

_As cynical and short-tempered as you seem on the surface_, Tsuzuki thought, watching his partner fondly, _you really are a sensitive young man, aren't you, Hisoka?_

"Kurosaki-kun," a soft, feminine voice said from the doorway, causing both shinigami to look over.

"Sensei!" Hisoka exclaimed at the sight of his teacher, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He almost fell back to the pillow from the sudden dizzy spell that assailed him, but he managed to stay upright, leaning forward and resting his forehead on his hand.

"Don't be so alarmed, Kurosaki-kun," his teacher smiled warmly, reaching out and touching him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm only here to see how you're doing."

"I...I'm doing fine...I guess," he answered, sitting back up and wiping a few lingering tears away. "I'm as good as I can expect to be right now."

His teacher's smile changed somewhat, becoming a mixture of pride and pity. "I'm also here to commend you, young man. You did very well for being so early in your training. Exceptionally well, I might say."

"Th-thank you, Sensei," Hisoka replied, an embarrassed little smile crossing his face. The smile disappeared in the next second, however. "But...b-but Nanakawa-san...she died."

"So I heard," his teacher said quietly, squeezing his shoulder like Tsuzuki had done. "And yet, it is to be expected. The possession was so severe, and you are so inexperienced, that the chances of her not surviving the exorcism were very high. You did all that you could, my student. The outcome could have been much worse if you had not done what you did." Her words echoed what Tsuzuki had told the young empath just a few minutes prior, though she didn't know it. Or perhaps she did. "Don't be so hard on yourself," she continued when Hisoka wiped another stray tear from his cheek. "Even with the most experienced exorcists, as many as one in four victims do not survive being exorcised. Either the demon's struggles to retain possession are too damaging for the victim to live very long after their expulsion, or they have been possessed for just too long, the power the demon wields becoming too much for their mortal bodies to handle. It's...it's an unavoidable evil that all exorcists have to learn to deal with."

Hisoka nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap. He was gripping the sheet in his fists, almost wringing it as he listened to his teacher's words.

"I'll understand if you do not wish to continue studying exorcism," his teacher said. "If you want, we can drop that subject and instead focus entirely on the healing arts."

"No," the green-eyed shinigami said, shaking his head. "I want to continue learning. I'm not going to be scared off by something like this." He looked his teacher in the eyes, conveying his seriousness with his emerald gaze. "I've found something that I can be really good at. I'm not going to back down now."

His teacher looked at him, her gaze hard, as if she were assessing just how serious her young student was about this. After a moment, however, her smile returned, and she clapped her hand back down onto his shoulder. "All right, then. We'll continue lessons as soon as you're well again. Does that work for you?"

"Hai, Sensei," he replied. He bowed after her as she exited, vanishing out the door with a flutter of her elegantly embroidered haori.

Hisoka looked over at Tsuzuki again as he sat upright, hearing the chair scrape against the floor as his partner stood up. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm going to get you some ice cream," Tsuzuki smiled. "You look like you need some cheering up right about now."

Hisoka blinked, not expecting that. After a moment, he lowered his head and chuckled. Saying that he was going to get Hisoka some ice cream undoubtedly meant that he was going to get Hisoka _and_ himself some ice cream. Tsuzuki's sweet tooth was a force to be reckoned with, and it was literally unheard of for the man to fetch something sweet for someone without getting the same for himself.

"Sure, Tsuzuki," he said, grudging affection in his green eyes. "That sounds good."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Yes, I know it's been months and months and _months_ since I last updated. I think last August was when chapter six was posted. I have no excuse but to say that real life got in the way. That, and my own laziness. Blarg. I guess I shouldn't feel too bad, though. I'm following a story that just went over a _year_ between updates, so eight months isn't so bad in comparison.

Anyway, I hope this chapter was worth the (way too long) wait. To make up for it, I'm planning on having chapter eight written and posted fairly soon. I can't promise anything, though. Just keep your eyes out for another chapter in the near future. I'll do my best to have it out in a decent amount of time. Cross your fingers and wish me a good deal of expediency.

As always, leave a review if you're so inclined. I do so love hearing how you guys like (or dislike) something I've written. Just please be polite if you have anything negative to say.

Baibai for now!


	8. Apprehension

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks much to EggDropSoup, Renkin-chan, and EchizenRyomaLover for reading and reviewing chapter seven! I hope you like this chapter just as much. Oh, and thanks to spiritmind675 for reading and retroactively reviewing all seven chapters. I much appreciate the feedback.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Eight: Apprehension**

A warm, well-known presence filled his mind, making him relax his stance, lowering his bow without firing the arrow he had just nocked. He looked toward the sliding door that led to the outside, listening for familiar footsteps.

Hisoka stood in one of the many dojo-like training rooms that congregated in one of the smaller wings of the Enmachou compound. His clothing was of traditional design, as it always was when he practiced archery or fencing. The target that stood thirty feet away from him already had arrows sticking out of it, most of them embedded in the bull's-eye at the center. He was just about to fire the arrow in his hand and then collect them from the target to start over, but his partner's approaching presence had made him pause.

"Tsuzuki," he said quietly. Time continued to take the two of them further away from that day in the conference room, when Tsuzuki had confessed to developing strong feelings for his younger partner. The veteran shinigami's behavior since then, however, had been anything but untoward. He was keeping to his promise to give Hisoka plenty of space, which the boy was exceedingly thankful for. Part of him felt bad for making Tsuzuki wait, but another (much larger) part of him was still cowed by the idea of intimacy. Even if sex wasn't part of the deal, he'd be afraid. He was comfortable enough with Tsuzuki and his other coworkers to let his guard down around them from time to time, but committing to a relationship with someone, no matter who it was, would include letting them get closer to him than hed ever let anyone get before. That thought scared him. No, terrified him. The idea of letting someone, _anyone_, get inside his inner shields was petrifying.

_I know he would let things go slowly_, Hisoka thought, looking down at his feet, _and I know he wouldn't expect sex from me right away, but..._

The door slid open, revealing the object of his current musings.

"Hey there, Hisoka," Tsuzuki smiled. "Sensei give you the afternoon off?"

"Somewhat," Hisoka replied, schooling his features into the cool, unaffected mask he usually wore. "She has family business up in northern Honshu, so my lessons have been put on hold for a few days until she gets back." He inclined his head toward the bow and arrow in his hands. "I haven't practiced with these for a while, so I thought I'd take the afternoon to get myself back into form."

"So I see," Tsuzuki nodded, closing the door behind him and kicking his shoes off. "How's it going?"

"Rather well." Hisoka turned back toward the target and pulled the arrow back again. "I just need to practice a little, and I'll be as good as I used to be."

The arrow flew forward, the bowstring propelling it toward the target with a low _twang_. A split second later, the arrow struck the circle just outside the bull's-eye with a muffled _chud_.

Tsuzuki whistled, impressed. "Nice shot."

"Thanks," Hisoka said, and Tsuzuki inwardly beamed when he saw the brief blush cross his partner's face. "I used to be able to get every one in the center, though. I'm a little rusty."

"But I see you got five out of eight arrows in the bull's-eye," Tsuzuki said. "Like you said, you just have to practice more, and you'll be in tip-top shape again."

"Yeah," Hisoka mumbled, letting his hair fall over his eyes as he walked toward the target to retrieve the arrows. Tsuzuki's warm affection for him was flooding his mind, and though it was kept under control, as per the older man's promise, it was still affecting the empath more than he would like to admit.

"Is something wrong?" Tsuzuki asked from where he had sat down on the tatami. Hisoka felt concern thread through Tsuzuki's emotions.

"Not...not really," he answered, almost too quiet for Tsuzuki to hear. He wordlessly plucked the arrows from the target's porous face and walked back, his hair still shielding his eyes.

"Hisoka," he heard Tsuzuki say, and he dared a look up. Tsuzuki patted the tatami next to him, gesturing for Hisoka to sit down. "Come here. You look troubled."

Hisoka hesitated. He briefly considered refusing, but something compelled him to comply, walking over and kneeling down next to his partner.

Tsuzuki turned toward him. "Tell me what's wrong, Hisoka. You've been distracted for the past several days. I can tell something's bothering you a lot."

"Well," Hisoka began slowly, staring at the floor in front of him, "I'm a little hesitant to bring it up. It's...a really touchy subject with me."

"Take your time," Tsuzuki said quietly, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. Hisoka could feel Tsuzuki's support flow through that simple touch, and he felt encouraged by it.

"I find myself thinking, lately, on what you said to me in the conference room several weeks ago," Hisoka explained. "It's...weighing on me more and more as time goes by."

Tsuzuki removed his hand from Hisoka's shoulder, but that didn't prevent the empath from sensing a quick spike of apprehension.

"It's not me...is it?" the older man asked, a look of anxiety on his face. "I haven't been controlling my emotions enough, have I?"

"No, that's not it," Hisoka quickly cut in. "It's nothing you've done, Tsuzuki. I'm grateful you've been keeping your feelings under control. I don't know how I'd be able to handle it if you weren't." He unconsciously raised his right hand, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You're keeping to your promise right down to the letter. You're not to blame at all."

"So, what is it?" Tsuzuki asked slowly. Hisoka felt relief replace most of the apprehension, though there was still a fair amount of trepidation in the older man's face and emotions.

"I'm...I'm frustrated," Hisoka said after a moment. "I'm frustrated and angry...with myself."

Tsuzuki was silent, looking at his partner with concern. He opted not to say anything, waiting for Hisoka to continue.

Hisoka sat back on his behind, pulling his legs out from under him and bending his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He looked like he was trying to protect himself from something.

"Part of me wants to accept you, Tsuzuki," he continued almost in a whisper. "Deep inside, I really want to return your feelings. But...b-but that part of me is buried so far, I almost can't reach it. Most of me is scared to death. I've been hurt so much in the past, I feel I wouldn't be able to open up to you no matter how much I want to. I've conditioned myself for so long to avoid being hurt like I've been hurt before, that the thought of letting even you get close to me is terrifying. Just thinking about it makes me feel so vulnerable, so exposed, that I close myself off again without even thinking about it. It's...it's hard. It's so hard."

Tsuzuki touched Hisoka's shoulder again. He kept his gaze off the boy, knowing that being stared at made Hisoka nervous. His young partner was already upset enough; he didn't need to add to it.

"I feel so bad for making you wait for me," Hisoka went on, sniffing as if to hold back tears. "It's not fair to expect you to wait forever. It's horrible of me to string you along indefinitely like this."

"You're not stringing me along, Hisoka," Tsuzuki interrupted quietly. "I'm waiting for you because I want to. I don't want to force you into anything that would make you uncomfortable or scare you." He finally looked up at the empath. "It's my choice. I don't want you feeling guilty over something I myself choose to do."

Hisoka nodded, covering his eyes with his hands, trying to regain control of his emotions. He jerked, almost crying out when he felt Tsuzuki put his arms around him, his empathy increasing sharply with the physical contact. Instinct told him to pull away, but he managed to hold himself still.

"If you need to cry, go ahead and cry," he heard his partner say quietly. "I can see how much you're struggling, Hisoka. I want to help you, if you'll let me."

The young empath slowly relaxed against his partner, his mind gradually adjusting to the amplified reception of the other man's emotions. His shields were still firmly in place, keeping Hisoka from confusing Tsuzuki's emotions with his own. Bit by bit, he let go in his partner's arms, and he cried quietly, letting his frustration and fear finally get the better of him.

Tsuzuki just held him, slowly stroking his honey-blond hair. He didn't cry, but his eyes were immeasurably sad. It hurt to see his young partner so distressed. In the back of his mind, his hatred for Muraki throbbed dully, knowing that the mad doctor was responsible for a large amount of the trauma that had caused Hisoka to be so closed off. He managed to keep it buried, however, not wanting to burden Hisoka with it when he was already so upset.

After several minutes, Hisoka raised his head and wiped at the tears staining his cheeks. His eyes were red, and he looked incredibly tired, the lines around his eyes much more noticeable than normal.

"Feeling better?" Tsuzuki asked, offering a kind smile.

"A little," Hisoka muttered, sitting back. Running his hands through his hair and taking a deep breath, he centered himself, determined to regain control of his emotions.

"You should go home and rest, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said. "Tomorrow's Saturday. Remember we decided to visit our graves that day."

Hisoka nodded. Tsuzuki was right. He needed to be alert tomorrow if their little trip was to serve its purpose. They were going to visit their burial sites as a first step to finding closure in their premature deaths. It wouldn't do for Hisoka to be in a half-asleep daze when he was supposed to be facing down his own demise.

"All right," he said, slowly pushing himself up to his feet. "Just let me gather up my stuff, and I'll head home."

"Do you want me to see you home?"

"Thank you, but no. I'll just translocate there. You should probably go home and start settling down, too." Hisoka glanced toward an open window, noting that, though there was still plenty of light outside, it wouldn't be long before the sun's rays began to lengthen. Evening wasn't too far off.

"You sure?" Tsuzuki asked, and Hisoka could tell he was concerned about him. That knowledge brought a warm feeling to his chest.

"I'm sure," he nodded. "I appreciate your concern, Tsuzuki. I really do. I just want some time to myself right now. I need to do some thinking."

"I understand," Tsuzuki smiled. "You can cry on my shoulder whenever you need to, Hisoka. Remember that."

"Thank you, Tsuzuki. I really mean it."

After gathering up his bow and arrows and stepping into his straw sandals, Hisoka went transparent, then disappeared entirely.

Tsuzuki could have sworn he saw an affectionate smile flit across the boy's face just before he vanished.

* * *

Hisoka shielded his eyes from the mid-morning sun. Fluffy white clouds moved slowly across the sky from time to time, leaving the sunshine pretty much unhindered. A brisk breeze blew, and every so often he caught a whiff of the nearby flower bushes, their blossoms open to the local bees for pollination. It was a nice day out, and though the breeze made it a little chilly without a jacket, many people were out for walks and picnics in the park that Hisoka was standing in.

The young shinigami shifted, folding his arms. He and Tsuzuki had decided to meet here in the living world, but his partner hadn't shown up yet. He couldn't be considered late yet, but Hisoka was starting to feel a little miffed.

_I'm always left waiting for him_, he thought, rolling his eyes up to the sky. This wasn't unexpected. It was typical Tsuzuki.

"Hisoka!" his partner called off to his right, and he turned to see the man he had just been thinking about jogging up the path toward him.

"There you are," Hisoka said, standing up straight from the telephone pole he had been leaning against. He gave Tsuzuki an appraising look. "You're almost late."

"But I'm _not_ late!" Tsuzuki huffed, looking put out. "Would it kill you to give me a break sometimes?"

"Fine, fine," Hisoka sighed, waving his hand in dismissal. "You're not late." He could sense a mental pout coming from Tsuzuki, but he could tell the man wasn't truly insulted. As tardiness was typical Tsuzuki, snarkiness was typical Hisoka. Neither one took the other's particular fault very seriously anymore.

"How'd you sleep last night?" Tsuzuki asked, changing the subject.

"I slept all right," Hisoka shrugged. "I was kinda nervous about today, but I didn't have much trouble falling asleep."

"Good," Tsuzuki smiled. "Same here."

Hisoka nodded in acknowledgement. Though they had both been planning this for some weeks, neither one of them was really looking forward to visiting their own graves. The whole idea was inarguably morbid, and both had, at one point or another, voiced their doubts that it was really necessary. Hisoka wasn't _scared_, and he could tell Tsuzuki wasn't either, but neither of them was hopping with excitement over this.

_I'm not scared of spiders either_, Hisoka thought, _but that doesn't mean I like them crawling on me._

Still, they both knew searching for closure over something was, almost by definition, neither easy nor pleasant, and facing their early deaths head-on was a logical first step in the healing process. As it was often therapeutic, though by no means painless, for a murder victim's family to address the murderer in open court, Hisoka and Tsuzuki suspected that coming so close to their physical remains and then walking away unscathed would go a good deal towards putting their buried anxieties and regrets to rest.

The young empath hoped they were right.

"So, where are we going?" he asked, following Tsuzuki's lead.

"We're going to the hospital where I spent the last eight years of my life," the older shinigami answered. His voice was quiet. Hisoka felt a dip in Tsuzuki's emotions as that period of his life was mentioned. Throughout the years-long waking coma he had lain in, Tsuzuki had been living entirely in a sort of dream world within his own mind. He had been completely unaware of what happened around him, experiencing instead whatever sights and sounds his unconscious made up for him. Hisoka suspected that a great deal of it had been unpleasant.

_He went without food, water, or sleep for all those years_, he thought, looking at the ground in front of him as they walked. _He didn't even age. He was twenty-six when he died, but his body was still that of an eighteen-year-old._ Furtively, he glanced over at his partner. _It's as if he wasn't truly alive, like he hung suspended between life and death that whole time._ He knew Tsuzuki suspected his impossible survival was a sign that he was descended from demons, or something else just as inhuman, but Hisoka wasn't so sure. Tsuzuki had wanted so much to die, that it was as if his soul had begun to leave his body by itself, but was unable to completely do so due to there being nothing to cause a normal severing of its ties to the flesh, such as an injury or illness. His spirit's attempts to leave may very well have pulled his body into a sort of half-existence, still within the physical realm but no longer susceptible to the effects of time. Hisoka didn't know very much about Tsuzuki's life before death with any certainty, but his theory on Tsuzuki's apparent suspension outside of time during those eight years he had been hospitalized didn't seem all that impossible, given what little he _did_ know.

After a moment, he stopped. "Wait, why are we going to the hospital?"

Tsuzuki stopped as well. He turned to look at his younger partner, and Hisoka was taken aback by the unadulterated seriousness on his face. He knew very well what was causing the expression, but it was so rare to see it on Tsuzuki that it was striking every time he witnessed it.

"I didn't have any family to retrieve my body once I died," Tsuzuki explained. "Well, I probably _did_ have family somewhere, but I hadn't had any contact with them for over a decade. No one at the hospital knew who to inform of my death, and even if they did, no one would have cared enough to come get me."

Hisoka listened with something akin to horror. He knew what it was like to be hated and feared by those who were supposed to love him, so he could easily identify with Tsuzuki's situation. However, as much as they feared him, Hisoka's family had still paid for his hospitalization and then retrieved him for a proper burial after his death. The negligence and indifference of Tsuzuki's family was simply beyond the pale.

"The hospital I stayed in has a small cemetery, basically an offshoot of its morgue, where patients without anyone to retrieve them can be interred after death," Tsuzuki continued, starting to walk again. "It's partly a charity hospital, where homeless, moneyless patients like myself can be treated without having to pay. It doesn't operate entirely by charity, but there's a whole wing of the hospital built for that purpose. I guess one of the hospital's major benefactors had an altruistic streak, or something."

"And Muraki's grandfather worked in that wing of the hospital," Hisoka said quietly. He knew next to nothing of Muraki Kazutaka's grandfather, but he suspected that he at least wasn't as demented as his grandson. Which wasn't very difficult, to be honest.

"I guess," Tsuzuki shrugged. "If he was one of the doctors who treated me, then he must have. At least in part. I can't say if the doctors who work in the charity wing work there exclusively or not." He paused a moment, his eyes briefly turning inward. "If Muraki hadn't said anything, I'd have no idea that one of my doctors was his grandfather. I don't remember anything about my stay there, except for that last period of lucidity where I finally succeeded in killing myself."

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka interrupted, a warning sharpness in his voice. He didn't like hearing about Tsuzuki's suicide, and for his partner to mention it so casually gave him the chills.

"Sorry," Tsuzuki said quietly.

Hisoka sighed. "I know accepting your suicide is part of accepting your death. I just..._hate_ hearing about it. It's going to take a long time before I'm able to hear about it without being repelled. It's nothing against you, Tsuzuki, its just...it scares me."

"I understand," Tsuzuki nodded. "It's my problem to overcome. I shouldn't burden you with it if it frightens you so much."

Hisoka relaxed a bit, letting out a breath. "Thank you."

They walked in silence for a while. The sun climbed slowly higher in the sky as noon approached, and the wind chill lessened until it disappeared altogether. Inwardly, Hisoka wondered why Tsuzuki suggested meeting as far away from the hospital as they did, but after thinking about it for a moment, he figured it was so Tsuzuki could steel himself on the walk there. It made sense. If they had been visiting Hisoka's grave first, he wouldn't want to enter the living world inside the Kurosaki property. He'd want a little distance to ready himself. He hadn't visited Kamakura, much less his family's estate, at all during his employment as a shinigami, nor had he ever wanted to. Going back to that place was going to be a difficult thing, indeed.

"Well, there it is," Tsuzuki said as they rounded one last corner, bringing a large, multistoried building into view. "It's expanded since I last saw it, but it's been several decades. I'd be surprised if it hadn't."

"Have you been back here since you died?" Hisoka asked.

"A few times, in the late '20s and early '30s. I never got closer than a block away, though. I'd stand on a rooftop somewhere nearby and just stare at the hospital. I don't really know why I did that." He lowered his amethyst gaze. "I suppose I was trying to accept how my life ended. But the last time I came here was a little less than ten years after I became a shinigami, and since then I've just been trying to ignore what happened to me while I was alive. Not a very good strategy, I know." The last part was said with a self-deprecating smile.

Hisoka looked at the hospital. It looked like any other hospital he had seen. Anyone else wouldn't see anything disturbing about the structure, but Hisoka could tell that the sight filled Tsuzuki with dread. The boy figured he would have the same reaction at the sight of his family's house. What would appear a normal, traditionally-designed house to anyone else would be like looking down the barrel of a gun to Hisoka. And that's exactly where they were going once they were finished here at the hospital.

The green-eyed empath sincerely hoped that Tsuzuki's suggestion of visiting their gravesites was a good idea.

"Well," he said after a moment, looking up at the taller man, "ready to do this, Tsuzuki?"

"Yeah," Tsuzuki replied, nodding to his partner and then looking back at the hospital. "As ready as I'll ever be."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** There you go. I told you I'd have chapter eight out fairly quickly. Yay, I kept my promise.

Don't have much to say this time, except that the first scene was a little difficult to write, and I hope it didn't come out stilted.

As usual, leave a review if you feel the need. I do very much love to hear what people think of my writings. Hopefully it's positive, but I pay attention to negative stuff as well. As long as it's delivered constructively. Flames do nobody good.

See y'all next time.


	9. Carved in Stone

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks as always to mooopower, spiritmind675, EggDropSoup, Eria, EchizenRyomaLover, walkerminion, and LillianeDeMalvrier for reading and reviewing chapter eight!

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Nine: Carved in Stone**

Hisoka stood a little apart from Tsuzuki as his partner perused the hospital floor plan that hung on the wall. The two of them were in the hospital's main reception area, and Tsuzuki was currently plotting out the easiest route from here to the cemetery. Hisoka was a few feet away from him, looking at the decorative plants that were set against the walls.

He didn't like hospitals. He wasn't scared, or even very nervous, but he had a distinct feeling of discomfort just for being in this building. The last few months of his life were spent in a hospital, his body wracked with sheer agony whenever he wasn't in a drug-induced sleep. Not only that, but the thought of hospitals brought to mind doctors, and the thought of doctors invariably brought to mind Muraki. As always, any reminder of his murderer was enough to make Hisoka shudder in revulsion.

There was also the fact that Muraki's family had a connection to this facility, as Yukitaka, Kazutaka's grandfather, had practiced here in the early 1900s. Hisoka was unsure if Kazutaka's father had also been a doctor, or if Kazutaka himself had practiced here at one time, but this hospital and the Muraki family were forever associated with one another in Hisoka's mind.

_Get a hold of yourself,_ he scowled inwardly. _It's not like Muraki's here now._

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki said, making the empath look up. "I've figured out the best way to get there. Let's go."

"Hai," Hisoka muttered, turning to follow his partner.

"You doing all right?" Tsuzuki asked, concerned by Hisoka's sullen tone.

"I'm fine," Hisoka shrugged. "I just don't like hospitals."

"Heh...me neither," Tsuzuki said, a thin smile on his face.

They walked in silence for a while, Hisoka following Tsuzuki's lead. He paid special attention to his mental shields, blocking out as much of the emotions of those surrounding him as he could. This was another reason he disliked hospitals. The patients, just about all of them ill and/or injured, gave off a miasma of discomfort and pain. If he didn't strengthen his shields, the sensation was enough to make Hisoka's stomach roll.

_I wonder how much of my pain during my hospitalization was mine and how much was from those around me_, Hisoka thought, keeping his eyes on Tsuzuki's back. _The pain from the curse probably drowned out anything I may have felt from anyone else..._

He bit back a gasp as he stopped suddenly, his nose inches from Tsuzuki's shoulder blade. The older shinigami had halted without warning, and Hisoka, lost in his thoughts, had almost walked right into him.

"Tsuzuki, what--" he began, familiar irritation rising up. He stopped when he saw the sign that his partner was currently staring at. "Oh..."

Tsuzuki had stopped in front of a set of double glass doors, and Hisoka could see a stone path flanked by grass leading away on the other side. There was a sign next to the doors reading, in simple black kanji, _CEMETERY_.

After a moment, his partner having stood completely still, Hisoka stepped up beside Tsuzuki and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Well, we're here."

"Yeah," Tsuzuki said, little more than a whisper. He looked through the wood-framed glass panes, a faraway look in his eyes. "I'm not scared because this is where my body is buried. That doesn't really bother me at all, but...all the memories it dredges up..."

"Don't rush yourself," Hisoka said, squeezing his shoulder. "Just take it slow. We can walk away right now, if that's what you want."

"No," Tsuzuki shook his head. "This was my idea. I should follow through with it." Swallowing audibly, the brown-haired shinigami reached for the door handle and slowly pulled it open. A breeze blew in as the door opened, birdsong drifting in with it. It was a pleasant day indeed, but neither shinigami was in the mood to notice.

The stone path led through a sort of hallway for a few yards, the walls slanting downward until joining with the cement posts flanking a small gate. The path turned a corner on the other side of the gate, opening up into a grassy area surrounded by mid-height stone walls. The ground was dotted here and there with stone plaques, marking the graves of those unfortunate enough to die without family to retrieve them. Ornamental plum trees stood at regular intervals along the wall, as well as a few standing among the grave markers. Their purple flowers were blossoming in the sunshine, and Hisoka could faintly hear the buzzing of bees flitting from one cup of nectar to the next.

It was a nice little cemetery. The hospital groundskeepers obviously kept it well-groomed, a respectful gesture to those interred here. Hisoka smiled faintly at the thought.

Tsuzuki stood there at the entrance to the cemetery, his eyes scanning the stone markers embedded in the ground. "I don't...really know which one is mine."

"Well then, just look until you find it," Hisoka said. "There aren't that many here, really. You should find it quickly."

"Yeah," Tsuzuki nodded, and after a few more moments' hesitation, he stepped out onto the manicured grass, heading for the nearest marker.

Hisoka took a few steps forward, then backed up again. He would stay here at the entrance unless Tsuzuki called him over. It was very possible his partner didn't want Hisoka hovering over him as he faced down his premature death. Tsuzuki may want some privacy, and Hisoka wasn't one to deny him that.

After a minute or two, Tsuzuki wandering from one marker to the next, he stopped next to a gravestone near one of the plum trees, staring down at it. His back was to Hisoka, so the empath couldn't see his face, but he felt a definite spike of apprehension in his partner.

"This is it," he whispered, his words almost inaudible to Hisoka. "This is where..." He didn't finish, kneeling down on the grass, brushing his fingers over the stone tablet. He looked behind him, as if expecting Hisoka to be there, a look of confusion crossing his face when he wasn't. His eyes fell on the boy standing at the entrance an instant later. "Aren't you coming over?"

Hisoka stepped into the cemetery proper and joined his partner. "Sorry," he said as he knelt down. "I thought you might like some privacy."

"Nah, it's fine," Tsuzuki said. "I want you here, actually. I'd...like someone to talk to."

Hisoka nodded, turning his eyes to the stone marker they were kneeling next to.

_TSUZUKI ASATO  
__Born February 24, Meiji 33  
__Died January 20, Taishou 15_

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said chidingly, "you've always told me you were 26 when you died."

"I was, more or less," Tsuzuki replied, shrugging slightly. "I died just a month shy of my 26th birthday."

"True," Hisoka nodded, letting it rest. He wasn't going to needle Tsuzuki for rounding up his age. Not now, at least. There was plenty of time for that later.

Tsuzuki sighed softly through his nose, touching the carved dates, his eyes half-lidded. Though Hisoka couldn't hear the thoughts of others unless they were intentionally projected into his mind, he knew Tsuzuki was thinking back on things he normally avoided remembering. The sadness mixed with pain was enough to tell him that.

"I was so confused when I died," Tsuzuki said just as Hisoka was about to ask if he wanted to tell him what he was thinking about. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. "I completely expected to find myself in Hell. Some people say it's a mortal sin to kill yourself, not to mention everything else people had said I was guilty of. Besides, Hell is where a demon like me belonged. I'd be going home, so to speak."

Hisoka bit his tongue, resisting the urge to contradict Tsuzuki calling himself a demon. Now was not the time to argue about that. He instead let Tsuzuki continue speaking uninterrupted.

"When I woke up in Meifu, I didn't know what to think," the purple-eyed shinigami went on. "It wasn't Hell, nor was it Heaven. I was someplace I had never heard of before. They said I was dead, but I felt so alive. More alive than I'd ever remembered feeling, really. I had never been a very healthy individual. Starving on the streets will do that to you. I wasn't starving anymore, though, and there was a power I had never felt before throbbing underneath my skin. I was told I possessed powerful magic, and that I had great potential as a shinigami." He rubbed at the back of his neck absently. "I wasn't very accepting of my situation at first. I didn't want to live another life. I just wanted everything to go away, and the power I felt frightened me. I didn't know what to make of it, and I was afraid of what I might accidentally do." He smiled wanly. "Can't say I was very easy to talk to those first several days."

Hisoka nodded slowly. He himself hadn't been very agreeable when he had first become a shinigami, either. His empathy had grown more powerful, as he was free of his mortal body, and he hadn't been very practiced at controlling it. Consequently, he had lashed out at just about anyone who came near him. He had even gone so far as to get a gun to keep people away. It was the same gun he had pointed at Tsuzuki upon their first meeting, though he had soon after disposed of it. Shinigami didn't have much use for firearms, he had realized.

"They partnered me with Tatsumi," Tsuzuki continued. "He was in need of a partner at the time, and I suppose they thought he was patient enough to deal with me." He smiled again, wryly this time. "And, if I got too unruly, he could just tie me up with some shadows until I calmed down again." The smile disappeared again, and Tsuzuki sat back on his behind, stretching his legs out in front of him. "After our first few cases, though, things smoothed out between us. I suppose we had come to understand each other to some degree."

"I've heard some things around the office," Hisoka said when Tsuzuki paused. "Just whispers, really, so I don't know if they're true or not."

"What things?"

"Well...like how you and Tatsumi used to be, eh...partners in more ways than one."

Tsuzuki looked down. "That's true," he said, nodding slightly. "We were...for a while, at least. We had been partners for a little less than a year when Tatsumi first told me he loved me. I was surprised, to be honest. No one except Neesan had ever loved me before, and this was completely different from what Neesan had shown me. This wasn't a siblings affection; this was way more than that."

"And you accepted him," Hisoka said, sitting back on his behind as well, crossing his legs Indian-style.

"I did. I had always been starved for affection, especially since Neesan died. Tatsumi had become more of a friend to me than anyone ever had before, and now he was saying he loved me. I...I clung to him, desperate to feel needed, wanted. We fell into bed together sooner than we should have, probably. I came to realize later that we had gone too far too fast, and I wasn't emotionally prepared for a relationship anywhere near that serious." He paused again. His fingers were meshed together, and Hisoka noticed that he was almost wringing his hands as he recalled his early years as a shinigami.

"And things didn't last," he said softly, looking down at the grass, watching an ant crawl up a blade that was a little taller than the rest.

"No," Tsuzuki shook his head. "My wounds were still fresh, my nerves still raw from what I had endured in life. That and the emotional whirlwind my relationship with Tatsumi was causing turned me into a complete wreck. I'd cry every time someone died during one of our assignments, even if death was a mercy to them. I got demanding of Tatsumi, feeling personally offended if he thought I was being childish or irrational. I even accused him of not really loving me during at least one of my little fits. I could tell my words hurt him, but I didn't care. I was too wrapped up in my own perceived pain to care how cruel I was being." He swallowed, rubbing at his eyes as if to keep tears from falling. "And then one day...he just dropped me. He said he couldn't stand it anymore. I was just so demanding and clingy and _needy_. He couldn't take the abuse I was dishing out, and seeing me in near constant tears was wearing on him so much. He said he still loved me dearly, but for the sake of his sanity he had to completely sever our partnership, both professional and personal." Tsuzuki lowered his head, his hair shielding his eyes. "He also said he was terrified he would come to hate me if we stayed together much longer."

Hisoka reached over and laid his palm against Tsuzuki's upper back, gently stroking back and forth along his spine. The contact increased his reception of Tsuzuki's shame and regret, making him grimace briefly, but he needed to let Tsuzuki know he was there for him.

"I...I had an emotional breakdown after that. I wasn't fit for work for...I don't know how long. A couple of weeks, at least. It wasn't long after I had pulled myself together again that I heard Tatsumi had resigned his shinigami position and had accepted a job as Shoukanka's secretary. I felt so betrayed, so hurt by his rejection, that I refused to speak with him for well over a year. I could hardly stand being in the same room with him." Scrubbing at his eyes again, Tsuzuki took a deep breath, willing himself to maintain control. "As time passed, though, I became so ashamed of myself. I realized how horrible I had been to him, and that just made me avoid him even longer. I still couldn't speak to him, not because I resented him anymore, but because I felt so guilty for hurting him the way I did." A single tear escaped and slid down his cheek. "It was years before we were anywhere near comfortable around each other again."

"Things have turned out for the best, Tsuzuki," Hisoka said quietly. "You and Tatsumi are such close friends now, and I can tell he still loves you very much. It's not a romantic love, really, but a deep affection, like you're his dear little brother. Well...I can't really call it that, but...I don't know how else to explain it. All I can say is he feels very strongly for you. I believe he's decided you aren't meant to be lovers, but you still mean a great deal to him." He sighed. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"You're making plenty of sense, Hisoka," Tsuzuki smiled, finding Hisoka's frustrated little scowl to be beyond cute. "I know what you're trying to say. It's the same conclusion I've come to regarding Tatsumi's feelings for me, actually."

Hisoka nodded, looking up at a bird that had just perched on a branch above them. The bird tweeted merrily, as if exalting the beautiful weather. Hisoka smiled, his appreciation of nature welling up inside him as the bird sang above them. He brought his attention back to his partner after a moment, his expression becoming somber again. As enjoyable as the weather was, his main concern was lending a sympathetic ear to Tsuzuki.

They sat there for well over an hour longer. Hisoka listened to whatever Tsuzuki had to say, offering an understanding comment every now and then. As he listened, he gathered up fallen plum blossoms from the grass, gradually weaving them into a chain, the ends of which he then joined into a circle when it was long enough. By the time he had finished, Tsuzuki had been silent for several minutes, watching him as he worked. Wordlessly, after checking for any imperfections, Hisoka laid the flower wreath on Tsuzuki's gravestone, then sat back and brought his hands together as if to pray.

"What are you doing, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked.

"I'm praying for the souls of those buried in this cemetery to find peace, yours included." He had learned many traditional Shinto prayers during his life, as his family actively practiced Japan's native religion. Several of those prayers wished peace for the dead, and the ones Hisoka liked best were now running through the young empath's mind, his lips moving soundlessly as he mouthed the words.

Tsuzuki sat silently, allowing Hisoka to pray unhindered. He was touched that Hisoka would include him in his prayer, even though he was sitting right next to him. Idly, he wondered which god or gods he was praying to. He didn't know if the Kurosaki clan held one of the Shinto deities in higher esteem than the others, or if they worshipped the pantheon all equally. It wasn't really his business, though, what incarnation of Shinto Hisoka was raised under. He had never been all that religious himself, as the hardships he had endured in life made it difficult to believe any god could possibly be worth worshipping. They never seemed to help him, so why should he pay homage to them?

After several minutes, Hisoka opened his eyes and lowered his hands to his lap, sighing shortly, as if to finalize the prayers he had just silently recited.

"I'm ready to go whenever you are," Tsuzuki said, bending his knees up and resting a wrist on them. "I really appreciate you listening to me, Hisoka. It...it means a lot to me."

"It can be rather therapeutic to talk about things you regret," Hisoka said quietly. "I'm glad I could help."

"Well...should we get going?" Tsuzuki asked slowly, knowing that their next destination would be as hard on Hisoka as this cemetery had been on him. Kurosakike, the house where he had suffered unspeakable pain and torment at the hands of those who were supposed to cherish and love him. It may even be harder on the young empath, as Tsuzuki's pain had been dulled by the passage of several decades, while Hisoka had died just a few years ago. He hadn't had nearly as much time to cope with his wounds as Tsuzuki had.

"May as well," Hisoka replied, schooling his voice into calmness. "You've just faced your past head-on. It's only fair that I do the same."

* * *

Hisoka stretched and yawned, feeling his back crack in a few places. He had been sitting against a cement wall up on a rooftop, and he was getting rather stiff. Shifting so the sun's lengthening rays didn't hit him right in the eyes, he sighed and leaned back again.

He and Tsuzuki had arrived in Kamakura a few hours ago, but they had yet to go to the Kurosaki estate. It wasn't because Hisoka couldn't work up the courage to go, but upon finding himself in the city of his birth, he had felt a sudden panic take over. He didn't want anybody recognizing him, especially a family member. Tsuzuki had died decades ago, so he had no reason to fear that the hospital staff would realize who he was. Hisoka, however, had been dead only a few years, and the Kurosaki family was one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the area. Lastly, the slow, mysterious death of the family head's only child was well-known among the city's residents. (Hisoka prayed that being found brutally raped in a sakura grove at the age of 13 wasn't also common knowledge.) Though Hisoka had very rarely been seen in public while he was alive, he did look exactly like his father, so it stood to reason that people would figure out who he was. It wouldn't do for anyone to think there was a ghost wandering the streets.

Tsuzuki had suggested passing the time out of sight until nightfall, and so the two of them had taken refuge on the roof of a small apartment building. It was high enough that they couldn't be seen from the street, making it a logical place to hide. Tsuzuki was now off finding something to eat, as both their stomachs had started growling. They had grabbed a bite at a fast-food restaurant after leaving the hospital, but that was a while ago now. Though technically dead, a shinigami's body was just as dependent upon outside nutrients as a living human's body was.

"Tadaima!" Tsuzukis cheerful voice announced his return, the man himself appearing a second later a few feet in front of Hisoka. Two styrofoam takeout boxes were in his hands, as well as a large soda cup with a straw stuck in the lid. "I found a nice little teriyaki shop a few blocks away. I wasn't sure which you'd prefer, so I got an order of chicken and an order of beef. I also got some lemonade for us to share." Tsuzuki's mood was considerably improved since they had left the hospital, and Hisoka could tell he wasn't putting forward a false front. The empath was glad of this, as he hated it when Tsuzuki faked being happy.

"I don't really prefer either one," Hisoka said as his partner took a seat next to him. "Just give me the one you don't want."

"I don't care which one, either," Tsuzuki replied, earning a _you're__ no help_ look from Hisoka. They eventually ended up with the boxes sitting open on the ground in front of them, the two of them eating out of both.

"It's getting late," Tsuzuki said around a mouthful of rice. "It'll be night soon."

"Yeah," Hisoka nodded. There was a note of apprehension in his voice, and he wasn't sure if Tsuzuki caught it or not.

"Is there anything you want to talk about before we go?" the older man asked. "Anything you want to get off your chest beforehand?"

Hisoka looked down at his chopsticks, considering. His expression was veiled.

"Do you want to tell me a little bit about your family?" Tsuzuki prompted softly, careful not to seem pushy. Pressing Hisoka to talk about his family would be like grinding salt into a fresh wound.

The empath sighed, closing his eyes. "I guess so. You've told me about yours, so I guess I owe it to you to tell you about mine."

"Hey, don't tell me about anything unless you want to," Tsuzuki countered. "You don't 'owe' me anything here."

"Yeah, but..." Hisoka sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "It's a large estate, but my family was rather small once I came along. The servants outnumbered us about four-to-one, I think. I was an only child, and neither of my parents had a lot of siblings. There was my father, Nagare, and my mother, Rui. Tousan's older brother Iwao also lived with us. Kaasan had a twin sister, Kasane, but she had died a few years before I was born." He paused briefly. "I sometimes wonder if Obasan would have been nicer to me than my parents, or if she would have hated me, too."

Tsuzuki listened silently, granting Hisoka the same courtesy he had been given.

"I must not have been empathic when I was an infant," Hisoka continued. "Otherwise, I don't know how I would have survived. I believe my abilities first manifested themselves when I was a very young child, as I can't remember ever _not_ feeling the emotions of those around me. I had no control over them, or any knowledge on how to shield myself. I'd start crying whenever someone got close to me, and I'd scream in pain if anyone touched me." He scratched at his neck briefly, chewing on some chicken before going on. "Kaasan was most affected by it, I think. I mean, she as the mother was the one who was most involved in raising me. Or at least she was supposed to be. I have very early memories of helplessness and confusion coming from her, as if she didn't know what to make of her only child being repelled by her mere presence. Over time, though...I started feeling nothing but anger and hate from her. She became convinced that I was a little monster whose only purpose was to torment her with my screaming and crying. She started calling me a demon, and the only time she touched me anymore was to hit me. I was even locked in a cage so she could keep me away from everyone. She didn't want me 'latching on' to anyone else to shred their sanity, too.

"That's horrible," Tsuzuki murmured. He had suffered similar abuse at the hands of his own family, yet he had had his sister as a support up until her untimely death. Hisoka had had no one to offer comfort. He had been all alone in a sea of hostility. "What...what about your father?"

"Tousan hardly ever looked at me," Hisoka answered, and Tsuzuki could detect a faint tremble in his voice. "He wasn't quite as superstitious as Kaasan. At least, I don't think he was. He never screamed at me or hit me like Kaasan, he just...ignored me. He seemed reluctant to acknowledge I even existed. I never felt hate or anger from him, but I did feel fear and guilt. I think he was afraid that I was somehow his fault, as if the fact that I was a monster had to do with him being the father." He paused again, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "There were times when Kaasan had been especially cruel, and I would cry out to Tousan for help. He never gave me any reason to think he would help me, but I was desperate. He would...he would just look at me, tell me to seek help elsewhere, and then...he'd walk away. Just leave me there with Kaasan." The young shinigami was visibly shivering now, and a tear escaped each eye to stain his cheeks.

Tsuzuki gently put his arm around his partner, letting the boy lean against him. Hisoka's sorrow was almost tangible, and he didn't need to be an empath to feel his own emotions responding in kind.

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki," Hisoka sniffed, bringing his hands up to his face. "I didn't mean to lose control like this."

"Don't worry about it," Tsuzuki soothed. "I understand completely. Just let it out. I'm here for you."

The two of them simply sat there, Hisoka crying his frustration and regret, Tsuzuki silently supporting him in his sorrow. It felt much like yesterday afternoon, when Hisoka had cried in Tsuzuki's arms over his inability to open up to his partner's romantic desires. Tsuzuki felt his heart tremble at the knowledge that the usually taciturn Hisoka had been reduced to tears twice in just as many days.

Eventually, the young empath managed to rein in his emotions, wiping the tears away and extracting himself from Tsuzuki's embrace. The sun was halfway below the horizon now, its orangish light casting a golden glow upon the city.

"Feeling okay?" Tsuzuki asked, patting Hisoka's shoulder comfortingly.

"Somewhat," his partner replied. "I think we should pack up and go soon."

"Agreed," Tsuzuki nodded. The two of them finished their dinner in silence as the sun sank completely out of sight, night falling over Kamakura. After disposing of the empty takeout boxes and soda cup, they waited a little longer until the sun's light was completely faded, stars sparkling in the clear black sky above them. Kamakura was small for a city, so it didn't stay "awake" at all hours like Tokyo or Osaka. When the silence was broken only occasionally by a car driving by or an airplane overhead, they vacated their hiding spot and headed toward the old residential district on the edge of town. The Kurosaki estate was one of the larger properties, and therefore was noticeably set apart from the rest.

"Wow," Tsuzuki whispered when they arrived, materializing just inside the front gate. The main house could be seen in the distance, though it was largely invisible because of the dark. The lanterns set at regular intervals around the outside were what drew the gaze. "This estate has been here a very long time."

"It has," Hisoka nodded. "The Kurosaki family has made this their home for centuries. The house once had to be rebuilt after being damaged in an earthquake, but aside from that, this property has remained largely unchanged for generations." Hisoka was well-schooled in his family's history, as all Kurosaki heirs had been. It wouldn't do for a family head to be ignorant of such things. Despite his fear regarding his son, Hisoka's father had seen to it that his successor be appropriately educated.

Silently, they stole through the grounds, keeping eyes and ears out for anyone who may still be out and about. Hisoka's heart was hammering in his chest, just being here enough to set his nerves on end. The closer they drew to the main house, the more the urge to turn around and flee grew in his chest.

_Stop it_, he chastised himself, willing his body to calm. _Tsuzuki faced his own death with little hesitation. If he can do it, so can you._

They paused near the front entrance, listening intently for any movement inside. Hisoka knew the household retired to bed soon after dark, but he wanted to make doubly sure his family and the servants were asleep. He feared being discovered even more than he feared being here. The idea of someone seeing him, especially his parents, made him sick to his stomach.

"Come on," he said quietly to Tsuzuki when he was sure no one was awake. He had heard nothing, and the spiritual signatures he could sense inside were all muted, definitely asleep. He shied away from identifying any of them, preferring not to recognize those who had made his life hell.

Beyond the gardens at the back of the house, set apart from the rest of the grounds by twisting paths and stone walls, was the cemetery. The family went there to pray to ancestors and mourn lost loved ones, though Hisoka himself had never actually been within the walls. He had avoided the cemetery, repelled by the concept of death and burial. This was another thing that had convinced his mother that he was a demon. After all, why would any upstanding Kurosaki refuse to pay homage to his esteemed ancestors?

Hisoka stood at the entrance, much as Tsuzuki had done back at the hospital, looking over the rows of narrow tombstones. Taking a few moments to steel himself, he eventually took a deep breath and stepped out onto the path winding its way among the graves.

Light suddenly flared up around them, and he whipped around, startled.

"It's okay," Tsuzuki said, holding his hand up in placation. "It's just me." In his other hand he held a fuda, the paper glowing like a lantern. He must have figured that it would be easier to find Hisoka's grave if they had a little light.

"Thanks, Tsuzuki," Hisoka said, his heart slowing again. "I hadn't thought of that."

Continuing on, Tsuzuki following a few paces behind, the boy scanned the names engraved on the markers as they passed. Some he recognized from his lessons in his family's history, others he had never heard of before. The dates were more or less in chronological order, so he figured he would be buried a ways away from the entrance.

Butterflies were suddenly flapping around in his stomach when his eyes fell upon a newer gravestone reading very distinctly, _KUROSAKI HISOKA_.

"Here it is," he heard Tsuzuki say softly.

"Here it is," Hisoka repeated, just as quietly. For a moment, he held stock still, his eyes taking in every curve and angle of the kanji that made up his name, the one for his given name seeming to burn into his retinas. This was irrefutable proof of his death. If there was still some part of Hisoka refusing to believe that he had died so young, there was no way he could deny it anymore. Slowly, he knelt down in front of the gravestone, brushing his fingers over the engraved kanji, much like Tsuzuki had done at the hospital. "Can I have a few minutes, Tsuzuki?"

"Sure," Tsuzuki nodded, granting Hisoka his privacy. He let go of the fuda, the enchanted paper rising up a few feet into the air. The area lit by it widened, allowing him to walk away without depriving Hisoka or himself of light.

_I suppose I'm fortunate that I had a family to bury me_, Hisoka thought somberly. He was grateful that his family had had the courtesy to properly inter him here among his relatives. It showed him that they still somehow thought of him as family, someone to be honored in death, despite his supposed monstrosity. He reached out again to run his fingers down the meticulous engravings...

...and froze when he got to the dates carved into the stone below his name.

_July 14, Shouwa 53 - July 17, Shouwa 53_

_Shouwa__ 53?_ he thought, confusion descending upon him like a swarm of locusts. _That's two years _before_ I was born! What--_

Below the birth and death dates on each gravestone was carved the names of the person's parents, indicating the line of succession. Hisoka felt a another shock when he read what was engraved.

_Father: Kurosaki Nagare  
__Mother: Kurosaki Kasane_

_Kasane-obasan?_ Hisoka surged to his feet, breath labored and body trembling. His heart was beating hard again. This was not him. This was someone who had been born and died within days two years before he himself had been born, and was not only his sibling but also his cousin. _This makes absolutely no sense..._

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki said off to his right. His partner was standing by another marker a few graves away, confusion and concern on his face. He looked worried by Hisoka's sudden agitation, and Hisoka had a suspicion of what was causing his confusion. Numbly, he walked over to stand beside the older man.

_KUROSAKI HISOKA  
__October 18, Shouwa 55 - February 10, Heisei 9  
__Father: Kurosaki Nagare  
__Mother: Kurosaki Rui_

This was him. This was where he was buried. Not that other grave. That other grave held someone else, someone entirely unknown to him. _And it was his father's child..._

_Another_, he thought dumbly, a cold feeling growing in his chest. _There's another...Hisoka...?_

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** I was worried I would have trouble filling this chapter out, but according to the file size, this is the longest one yet. Imagine that.

I said at the end of the first chapter that I wasn't factoring any of the manga events past the Kyoto arc into this story, as doing so would overcomplicate things, so it was best to consider this an anime fic. This still holds true, although I am touching on some subjects from the Kamakura arc, such as his mother's dead twin and the other Hisoka. However, I'm just gleaning the details that fit the purposes of this fanfic, so it's still best to consider this an anime fic, just with a few hints at manga-only happenings. Don't expect me to go into the whole shebang surrounding Yatonogami, because that would only muddle things up way more than I'd like them to be. This is an anime fic, so there is no Yatonogami. I am the author and I have spoken.

Anyway, if I get my way, chapter ten shouldn't be too long in coming. It'd be mean of me to make you guys wait a long time, seeing as I ended this chapter with a cliffhanger. I have the last week of May off from work, so if it isn't up by then, I'll work on it during that week.

Leave a review if you want, and I'll see y'all next time.


	10. Authorized Access Only

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Muchas gracias to EchizenRyomaLover, Eria, mooopower, Riaries, spiritmind675, and Koshi Sekisen for reading and reviewing chapter nine!

Before we commence with chapter ten, I want to acknowledge a couple of small mistakes that I realized I've made while flipping through the manga. The first is back in chapter six, when I said that Yuma and Saya hadn't been able to come south to see Hisoka and Tsuzuki yet after the Kyoto disaster. Truth is, you see them very, very briefly (like, two panels) at the end of the Kyoto arc, chasing after Hisoka to "play" with him. Oops. The second one is in chapter nine, where I said that Tsuzuki's first partner was Tatsumi, and that they worked together for a year or two. Canonically, Tatsumi was Tsuzuki's third partner, and they worked together for only a few months before Tatsumi severed their relationship. Oops again. I hope no one minds the slipups. No one mentioned noticing them, but I wanted to acknowledge them even so. I feel kinda silly for missing those two points.

Anyway, on with the show.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Ten: Authorized Access Only**

"Kachou! You _have_ to let me see those records!"

It was the Monday after Hisoka had discovered he was not his father's only child. Clock-in time had barely come, and Hisoka had already burst into Konoe's office, demanding he be allowed to see the files on his family. He had barely slept the last two nights, and was completely restless during all of Sunday, a near-desperate need to learn about this mysterious half-sibling pounding through his skull. However, access to personal and family history files was restricted. Information relevant to a current case was often released to the shinigami assigned to that case, but no one was allowed to peruse the archives with impunity. It was to prevent the abuse of sensitive information, first and foremost. Just how many potential time bombs the document rooms contained was anyone's guess, so the higher-ups were taking no chances. Translocation into the tightly-locked rooms was impossible, and the computerized records were protected by several layers of security and firewalls. Breaking in and viewing the records illicitly was about as easy as getting blood from a stone.

Tsuzuki sat in a chair near the door, leaning forward with his head down. He hated seeing Hisoka so agitated, and he was still unnerved by the boy's discovery that he was not only his father's second child, but the second one named Hisoka, as well. He could tell his partner's sense of identity was gravely shaken, and his own emotions had responded in kind. Seeing the one you love in such distress was heart wrenching. Yesterday had seemed to drag on for eons, and Tsuzuki had been unable to shake the worry he held for Hisoka, which had only been made worse when the boy shut himself into his apartment and refused to answer both the door and the phone. Never before had a Sunday been so nerve-wracking.

Tatsumi stood nearby. He had been in the office, as he normally was first thing in the morning, when Hisoka had charged in, and even though his brain was urging him to leave immediately, his feet were rooted to the spot. His sapphire-blue eyes were looking anywhere but at the youngest shinigami, often casting concerned glances at Tsuzuki. He didn't need Hisoka's empathy to realize just how much his former lover was affected by this, and the desire to demand that Hisoka shut up and leave until his temper had died down as getting stronger by the minute. He wasn't afraid of the boy's wrath, though he was probably the only one in the office who could claim this with all certainty.

"I understand your concern, Kurosaki-kun," Konoe replied, keeping his voice level. Hisoka could tell he was inwardly intimidated by his vehemence, however. His tirades against Tsuzuki, Terazuma, and other annoyances were common knowledge in the office, but never before had the young empath turned his temper upon the chief. Konoe was beginning to see why Tsuzuki often cowered in fear under Hisoka's sharp tongue. As young and harmless-looking as he was, Kurosaki Hisoka was an outright hellraiser when he was angry.

"Then _what's_ the problem?"

"I can't just allow you access to the personal history records," Konoe explained. "You have to go through the proper channels to be granted clearance."

"I'm asking for information on _my_ family!" Hisoka nearly snarled. "We're talking about _my_ older brother or sister! I have a right to know about my own sibling, damn it!"

"I agree; you do. However, if I allowed you access to the records without my superiors first granting you clearance-"

"I don't _need_ access to the whole collection!" the green-eyed shinigami interrupted. "I just want access to the records on the Kurosaki family! My father's first child, if nothing else!"

"Kurosaki-kun, you and I both could get in a huge amount of trouble if I give you restricted information without a legitimate reason." Konoe's voice was laced with sympathy. He truly did feel bad for the boy, but this was no small favor he was asking. Konoe's first responsibility besides making sure Shoukanka's operations ran smoothly was to uphold the policies and rules laid down to him and his employees. The rock-solid security measures surrounding the personal history records allowed for no leeway in that particular policy.

"Isn't my right to know about my own family legitimate enough?" Hisoka demanded.

"I believe it is plenty legitimate, yes, but it's not my call, unfortunately."

Hisoka slammed his fists down on the desk, his whole body trembling. His eyes stung sharply, and he had the sudden urge to burst out crying in frustration. He had cried enough during the last few days, however, and he brutally forced back the tears. By the gods, he was _not_ going to lose it in front of his boss! Maybe later when he was alone, but definitely not now.

Konoe sighed. "Just let me request that you be given clearance to access your family's records. I'm sure there would be no problem, if I explain the reason why. You just have to follow the proper procedures, or else risk getting in trouble."

"I don't give a _damn_ about getting in trouble," Hisoka said through gritted teeth. "Enma himself could come down on my head, for all I care. I _need_ to know about _my own family_, damn it!"

"Kurosaki-kun, you could be fired over this," Konoe said sharply, and Hisoka could feel frustration threading through the chief's emotions. "Just let me get for you the proper clearance to access those files. Like I said, it shouldn't be difficult."

"But it takes too long," Hisoka muttered, his jaw still tight. "Getting through yesterday was absolute torture. I _can't_ wait any longer!"

"It might not take long at all," his boss reassured him. "If I go to talk to my superiors right now, you could be granted clearance later today."

Hisoka let out a long-suffering sigh. He was exhausted from a weekend of no rest, and he was feeling more and more helpless by the minute. The urge to cry pushed against his mental restraints again, his fists clenched so hard that the knuckles were completely white.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki's quiet voice suddenly spoke up, forestalling any further argument from the boy. "Just...just let it go for now...let Kachou handle it. You need to relax. You're going to make yourself sick if you keep going on like this." He wasn't looking at his partner, chocolate-brown hair shielding his violet eyes. Hisoka didn't need his empathy to see just how bothered Tsuzuki was by his angry outburst.

The green-eyed empath grit his teeth again, feeling them creak with the pressure. Without another word, he spun around and stalked out of the office, refusing to look at either Tsuzuki or Tatsumi. He had been defeated, and the loss left a bitter taste in his throat. Perhaps storming out in a snit made him look childish, but right now he couldn't care less about how he appeared to others.

"Hey, Bon!" a familiar voice greeted him as he entered the common office area. "Was that _you_ I heard yelling? What's going on?"

It was Watari. The strawberry-blond scientist had his glasses and white lab coat on as he always did, 003 perched on his left shoulder. The steaming mug of coffee in his hand indicated that he had just come from the break room.

"Bon?" Watari grew concerned when he got no answer. "You feeling all right? Hey!" Without thinking, he reached out and gripped the boy's arm, trying to get his attention.

This small action brought about a staggeringly unequal reaction.

"_DON'__T TOUCH ME!_" Hisoka roared, lashing out at his older colleague, knocking the unwelcome touch away. Not only was the sudden increase in his empathic reception wholly unwanted, but indignation at the interruption of his retreat from Konoe's office had also jumped to the fore. He was _pissed_, and he didn't care _who_ he was striking out at.

"ACK!" Watari yelped in alarm, jumping back from the unexpected assault. He managed to avoid being hit, but hot coffee slopped out of his mug, scalding his hand and wrist. The engineer hissed in pain, quickly setting the mug onto the nearest flat surface so he wouldn't drop the whole thing. 003 was flying around in circles, hooting in agitation. She had been startled into flight when Watari jerked back from Hisoka, and the little bird seemed both annoyed and frightened by the current ordeal.

"You should leave Kurosaki-kun alone, Watari-san," Tatsumi said, coming out of the chief's office. Tsuzuki trailed a little behind him. "He's...quite upset at the moment."

"Yeah, I can tell," Watari replied, nursing his burned hand. "What happened, anyway?"

"Hisoka found out that he has a brother who died before he himself was born," Tsuzuki said quietly. "Or maybe it's a sister, I'm not sure. All we really know is that his aunt is the mother...and this child was named Hisoka, too."

"Jeez," Watari muttered under his breath. "No wonder the kid's upset."

Tsuzuki sighed, starting to head toward the two desks pushed up against one another that he and Hisoka used while in the office. His partner was now hunched over a stack of paperwork, apparently intent on losing himself in his work.

"Just let him be for today, you guys," he said. "He's under a lot of stress right now. I'll...I'll try to calm him down a little bit."

Tatsumi and Watari both nodded slightly as Tsuzuki walked away, cautiously approaching his now deathly-silent partner.

_If anyone can talk him down when he's this upset, it'd be you, Tsuzuki_, Watari thought, patting 003 as she again perched on his shoulder, preening strands of his long hair. _Poor kid..._

* * *

Tsuzuki leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch. It had been about forty minutes since the younger Gushoushin showed up at his and Hisoka's desk and handed his partner an unlabeled CD. The little bird-like spirit had said that Konoe-kachou had requested that certain files be burned onto disc and given to Hisoka, and that the boy had permission to clock out early to view the information contained in those files, if he wanted. The empath had snatched the CD from the Gushoushin's feathered hands and dashed off in the direction of the time clock. Now he was in the library, presumably using the library computers to read the files.

The older shinigami had clocked out about fifteen minutes ago, and was now seated in one of the chairs situated in the hallway outside the library doors. He figured that Hisoka would want his privacy right now, so he wasn't going to look in on his partner unless called. He was pretty sure that Hisoka could sense that he was just outside, so he would know that he was nearby if needed.

"Tsuzuki-san," a familiar voice said to his right, and he looked over to see Tatsumi coming toward him.

"Hey, Tatsumi," Tsuzuki smiled, but it was a subdued smile. He was glad to see his friend, as usual, but he was also understandably moody. He had just worked eight hours with a tense, silently seething partner, and he had realized before lunchtime that he much preferred a snappish, hot-tempered Hisoka to a mute, icy-cold one. He didn't particularly like working in the office anyway, preferring field assignments to paperwork, but today had been absolutely excruciating.

"Are you doing all right?" the secretary asked, concern written on his face. "You and Kurosaki-kun seem to have been having a rough time lately."

"That's an understatement," Tsuzuki snorted, crossing his arms and looking down. "It's mostly Hisoka, though. Most of _my_ discomfort is due to my concern for him. He's been having to deal with some pretty heavy stuff lately, and I can't help but feel his pain as if it were mine. It's so hard watching him struggle like he is."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tatsumi asked, taking a seat in an adjacent chair. "I mean, if you don't think Kurosaki-kun would mind, that is. I wouldn't want you telling me anything he would rather keep between the two of you."

Tsuzuki sighed. "Well, shortly after the Kyoto incident-" both he and Tatsumi flinched ever so slightly at the mention that fiasco, "-he and I both promised that we'd help each other put our demons to rest and finally let the past be the past. He wanted to help me find peace with myself, and I wanted to help him with the same. I suggested that one of the first steps could be to visit the places we had been buried. Y'know, make a conscious effort to accept that we died very young. We can't even begin to lay our other anxieties to rest if we're still holding on to that one."

"You did that this weekend," Tatsumi said, more of a statement than a question.

"On Saturday, yeah," Tsuzuki nodded.

"And, did it serve its hoped-for purpose?"

"For me, it did. I mean, I still have a long way to go; it'll be a while before I'm totally 'over' my past. But I did feel noticeably better once we had visited my grave and I had talked to Hisoka about some of the regrets that I've been nursing for most of my shinigami career." He didn't specify which regrets he had revealed to his young partner. Tatsumi likely at least partly knew what he was talking about, and Tsuzuki really didn't want to bring that up with his former lover. He uncrossed his arms, continuing with his story. "Hisoka, though...we had barely gotten to the Kurosaki family cemetery when everything just blew up in his face. We thought he had found his grave, but then I found another headstone marked 'Hisoka' when I had left him alone for a few moments. He seemed to have realized that he was kneeling at the wrong grave at about the same time I did, because he jumped to his feet before I could even get his attention, looking like someone had shot him."

Tatsumi was silent, letting Tsuzuki speak.

"I suppose it wouldn't have been quite as much of a problem, normally. I mean, people are named after relatives all the time. But...according to the lineage indicators on the other Hisoka's gravestone, they have the same father, and his aunt, his mother's twin sister who had died a few years before he'd been born, is the mother." He fell silent, a darkness having settled in his amethyst eyes.

"The logical conclusion is," Tatsumi said once Tsuzuki stopped talking, "after the deaths of his first wife and child, Kurosaki-kun's father married his sister-in-law and then named _their_ first child the same thing he had named the child he and his first wife had together." Tatsumi sighed when Tsuzuki nodded, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "I imagine feeling like a replacement for someone more important must have terribly upset him."

Tsuzuki nodded again. "It hurts so much seeing him like this. I-I want to help him, but I don't know what to do."

Tatsumi watched his former partner for a long moment, taking in the younger man's hunched shoulders, creased brow, and clenched jaw. Tsuzuki reminded him very much of himself from several decades past, when he had been angsting over the pain and stress the violet-eyed man had been causing him. The main source of that pain and stress hadn't totally been Tsuzuki's actions, but also the feelings he had held for his partner colliding violently with the hurt and betrayal he had felt in response to what Tsuzuki was doing and saying. He had loved Tsuzuki dearly, yet it had been getting increasingly painful just to be near him.

"You love Kurosaki-kun, don't you?" the secretary asked, touching Tsuzuki's chin to make him turn and meet his eyes. "More than as a friend, I mean."

"I do," Tsuzuki admitted without hesitation. "I love him so much it hurts. I promised that I'd give him all the time he needed to decide if he wanted to return those feelings, and I'll die before I break that promise. He...he said he wants to love me back, but is too terrified to do so, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to overcome that fear. That's another thing he's been dealing with lately, and I don't know what I can do to help with that, either. He's struggling so much, and all _I_ can do is sit there and watch."

"All you can do is offer to support him if he ever needs you to, so he knows you're always there for him," Tatsumi said, letting go of Tsuzuki's chin and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "If there's no other way that you can feasibly help him with his problems, then that is enough. You can't do what you can't do. I'm sure Kurosaki-kun is grateful for what you _can_ do."

"He is. He's told me a few times, and it was obvious that he was being 100% honest with me." He paused and rubbed at his eyes, as if tears were threatening to fall.

"Then don't beat yourself up over not being able to do more. Kurosaki-kun wouldn't want to see that."

"Mmhm," Tsuzuki nodded, looking down at the floor between his feet. "Thank you, Tatsumi. I really needed to hear that."

"I'm glad to help," the secretary smiled, reaching down and squeezing Tsuzuki's hand. Though the two of them hadn't been intimate in decades, Tatsumi often still expressed his fondness for the younger man with gentle touches and whispered words. It was just his way of staying close to his former lover, and he knew Tsuzuki appreciated the little affectionate displays. Though neither of them wanted to repeat the mistake of becoming sexually involved with each other, the two of them still shared a silent, intuitive form of communication.

At that moment, the library door a short distance down the hall opened, and a slim, fragile-looking figure stepped into view.

It was Hisoka. The fair-haired shinigami looked over at the two older men, obviously expecting to see them there. He must have sensed them through his empathy, just as Tsuzuki had suspected he would. Even from this distance, they could see how exhausted the boy was, his sleepless weekend starting to catch up with him.

Tatsumi stood up after giving Tsuzuki's hand another reassuring squeeze. "I'll leave you two alone. Good night, Tsuzuki-san. I'll see you tomorrow."

"G'night," Tsuzuki said, his eyes glued to his partner down the hall. As the secretary left, passing by their youngest colleague, Tsuzuki heard him repeat the farewell to Hisoka, the empath responding with a mumbled "oyasumi."

Tatsumi exited the hallway, leaving the two of them alone.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked, standing up from his seat. "Are you all right? Is there anything you want to tell me?"

The younger man simply stared at him for a moment, then let out a mournful sigh, his entire body seeming to deflate. Still not speaking, he turned and reentered the library. He left the door open, indicating that he expected his partner to follow. Tsuzuki swallowed nervously and approached the door.

When he entered the library, Hisoka was sitting at one of the tables with a laptop open in front of him. He was hunched over, leaning on his elbows with his fingers meshed together in front of his face. He didn't speak as his partner came closer, apparently lost in thought.

On the computer screen, Tsuzuki saw a file that detailed the life of a non-shinigami individual. Though it was headed _Kurosaki Hisoka_, he knew right away that it wasn't the file the Gushoushin had showed him while they were working the Maria Wong case. The profile picture was of a newborn infant, and the section on the individual's life was so short as to be almost non-existent.

"Hisoka?" he said quietly, looking at his partner's slumped form.

"My sister," Hisoka replied, little more than a whisper. "My half-sister, really...and my cousin."

Tsuzuki pulled the nearest chair closer and sat down, watching the boy as he spoke haltingly.

"The...the official cause of death listed on the death certificate is Sudden Infant Death Syndrome," Hisoka continued numbly. "B-but...she was actually murdered...she was only three days old!" His hands clenched into fists, nails cutting into the palms. "He suffocated her with her own blanket!"

"Who did?" Tsuzuki asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

"Iwao-ojisan," Hisoka hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut in fury. "Tousan's older brother. _He killed his own niece!_"

"Gods..." Tsuzuki murmured, putting his arm around his partner's trembling shoulders. He didn't know what else to say or do. This was almost too ghastly to believe, but the file open in front of them said the exact same thing. Meifu's records were never wrong about this sort of thing.

"Why?" Hisoka choked, banging his fist on the tabletop. "Was it because she was a girl? Did he think my father should have a boy for an oldest? Damn it, _we're supposed to be past that!_" His family was very traditional, more so than most families anymore, but he never would have suspected that his uncle would do something so reprehensible. Yes, female offspring were sometimes neglected, abandoned, or even killed before the country's modern period, but Japan as a society was supposed to have done away with that horrible practice. To think that such a terrible remnant of the past would rear its ugly head within his own family...

"I'm so sorry, Hisoka," Tsuzuki whispered, feeling tears prick his eyes. Not only had his partner been murdered, enduring a slow, agonizing death without even knowing what was wrong with him, but his sister had had her own life snatched away from her before she had even had a chance to live it. Looking at the computer screen, he saw a single-sentence paragraph at the end of the section on her life, saying that her unexpected demise caused the wasting away and death of her grief-stricken mother, who had died just a few weeks after her daughter had been buried. He felt a pang of sympathy go out to Hisoka's father, who had been hit with the deaths of both his child and his wife within weeks of each other. It must have been a horrible thing to go through.

"Now I know," Hisoka muttered after managing to regain a modicum of composure, "what Tousan meant that one time..."

"What time?" Tsuzuki asked. "What do you mean?"

"Ojisan was almost never around when I was. I had this weird feeling that Tousan didn't _want_ him around me. I couldn't ever explain why I thought that, but I was grateful for it. The man terrified me." Hisoka clasped his hands on the table, looking down at the watch on his left wrist. "But one morning...I must have been about seven or eight...I hadn't gotten out of bed yet, but apparently Ojisan had come to the main house and wanted to see me. Tousan had stopped him down the hall from my room, and the two of them were arguing. Just screaming at each other. Their anger terrified me, but even if I hadn't been able to feel it, their yelling would have been frightening enough." He swallowed, pausing briefly, as if it took considerable effort to keep his voice steady. "I can't really remember what was said, except for one thing I heard from Tousan. He said...he said, _You__ expect me to let you near my son, after what you did to Hisoka and Kasane?_ I was so confused by that. Ojisan had never done anything to me except scare me, and I had never heard of him harming Obasan, either." Hisoka lowered his head, almost touching his forehead to the table. "Now I know what he meant."

Tsuzuki didn't know how to respond. All he could do was rub Hisoka's back in what he hoped was a comforting fashion. He was at a complete loss for words, so he kept silent. Now was not a time to be stammering awkward reassurances.

Quickly, before Tsuzuki noticed what he was doing, Hisoka closed the onscreen file, popped the CD out of the disc drive, and stood up, shutting the laptop as he rose.

"Can you give this back to the Gushoushin for me, Tsuzuki?" the younger shinigami asked, his voice and eyes now void of emotion. "I have to get out of here."

Tsuzuki had barely taken the disc from Hisoka when the empath abruptly fazed out of sight, translocating himself away from the premises. He was gone before Tsuzuki could even blink.

The violet-eyed man just sat their, taken off-guard by Hisoka's sudden exit. After a moment, he stood up as well, picking up the laptop to return with the CD to the library's little avian caretakers.

_Just let him be_, he thought as he approached the front desk. _He needs some time alone right now._

* * *

Later that night, once darkness had fallen and the nearly-full moon had risen high, Hisoka knelt gingerly before his sister's grave. He felt the chill of the traditional stone covering of her final resting place seeping through his jeans, but he barely noticed it. In his hands he held three flowers, one for each day of her short existence, a trio of white lilies to signify the innocence of the life that had been stolen so heartlessly away from her. He laid the flowers wordlessly before the tombstone, their soft petals glowing faintly in the moonlight.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Hisoka-neesan," he whispered, his voice raspy with emotion. The honorific felt strange on his tongue, but it also felt right to say it. She had died as an infant, and they had never met each other-they probably never _would_ meet each other, unless they crossed paths either in a future life or in the afterlife-but she was still his older sister. She was still his Neesan. Hisoka felt his heart clench in his chest. _At least Tsuzuki had _known_ his sister..._

Sighing lengthily, his eyes watering, he lowered his head and put his hands together, praying both to her departed soul and to the gods to take care of her. It was the least he could do for her.

_This shouldn't have happened to you_, he thought, feeling wetness on his cheeks. _This shouldn't happen to _anyone_...__!_

He stayed like that for some time, alternately praying in silence and speaking softly to the grave marker, as if there was someone there to hear him. Then again, perhaps someone _was_ there to hear him, listening from beyond invisible veils...

"Who's there?" a sharp voice suddenly called out, causing Hisoka to nearly scream in stunned surprise. A split second later, dread descended upon him. He had been so intent on paying his respects to his dead sister that he hadn't heard the approaching footsteps, or noticed a light growing nearer from the direction of the main house. He hadn't even felt the person's spiritual signature coming closer, he had been so absorbed in his task.

Slowly, feeling like a fugitive with a dozen police officers training their weapons upon him, Hisoka rose up from where he knelt, not turning around until he was standing up straight. The light momentarily blinded him, but after a moment of blinking and rubbing his eyes, he could make out a figure standing near the cemetery's entrance. It was a man holding a lantern above and in front of himself on a meter-long pole. It was so light could be shined on a larger area than if the lantern was held in hand, and Hisoka was just inside the perimeter of the yellow circle illuminated by the flame inside.

He didn't realize who it was for a second or two, but once it hit him, he stumbled back in fear and alarm, his heel running into something and sending him tumbling to the ground. His eyes were wide, his breath suddenly coming in short gasps.

"T-T-Tousan...!"

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Ah-ha, another cliffhanger. Evil Annie-chan. The idea to have Hisoka get found out by his father only recently came to me. I've always wondered how the conversation would go between the two of them, if they ever cross paths in the manga. I mean, it's possible that they will. So, I shall be giving my imagining of that (horrendously awkward) encounter in the next chapter. Keep your fingers crossed that I get it written soon.

I should say beforehand that my portrayal of Nagare might be horribly OOC. I'm not very certain at all of his attitude toward his son. Either Matsushita-sensei hasn't addressed it yet, it _has_ been addressed but it's after the end of #11-which I haven't read past yet-or I'm just an idiot and completely missed it. My Japanese isnt fluent by any means, and I haven't read the English releases. In any case, I'll be writing Nagare as I believe fits best with this fanfic. I'll factor in his personality from what I've seen of him so far, but I'm not going to beat myself up trying to stay perfectly IC. But, since I'm expecting you guys to live with my completely cutting out of the Kamakura and Gensoukai arcs, I figure it isn't too much to ask that you accept my (possibly skewered) version of Kurosaki Nagare.

Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined. I'll see you all next time, which I pray will be soon.


	11. Sins of the Father

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks as always to spiritmind675, walkerminion, EchizenRyomaLover, mooopower, and Eria for reading and reviewing chapter ten!

Forgive the clichéd chapter title. I can never think of very imaginative names for my stories. Sigh.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Eleven: Sins of the Father**

Hisoka couldn't remember a time he had been so tense.

The young shinigami stood on the edge of the wooden porch looking out over the gardens to the rear of his family's house. Fireflies floated here and there in the moonlight, giving the appearance of stars drifting among the flowers and trees. As a child, he had often snuck out of the house at night to watch the serene display. It had been one of the few things in the world he could fully take pleasure in, the dazzling spectacle causing him no pain or discomfort. That and watching the koi swim lazily in the ponds that dotted the property had been his favorite activities as a boy.

Now, however, he was hardly in the mood to enjoy the sight. Behind him, a door opened into a tearoom, light spilling out onto the porch and throwing a long shadow of Hisoka onto the ground in front of him. At the low table situated in the middle of the room sat Kurosaki Nagare, his back to the door. The man's posture was straight, as it always was, but there was a barely discernable stiffness to his bearing that indicated a fair amount of uneasiness.

Hisoka let out a long sigh through his nose, crossing his arms as if cold. Neither he nor his father had said a word since arriving at the main house. It seemed that neither of them _knew_ what to say. This situation was anything but normal.

Nagare had stared wordlessly at his son as he lay gasping on the ground, a look of shock on his face. Hisoka had merely laid there, his mouth working as if to speak, but no words came out. Inwardly, he had been panicking. His father was one of the last people on Earth he wanted to be found by, and the man had walked right up on him as if Hisoka had been asleep. The urge to scream was pushing at his ribcage from the inside, but his throat was blocked. All he could do was lay there, staring up at his father as if Death itself were looming over him.

The Kurosaki patriarch had suddenly lunged forward, crossing the cemetery with unexpected speed to grab the cowering boy by the upper arm, hauling him to his feet. Hisoka had finally let out a hoarse cry, the sudden increase in his empathy forcing it from his throat. He tried to pull away, but his body was trembling so badly that he barely had enough strength to stay on his feet once Nagare released him.

"You're not a ghost," his father had breathed, his voice soft and unreadable. Hisoka sensed, however, that his father was feeling a chaotic mixture of surprise, confusion, fear, and dread. It was not every day that one comes across the apparition of one's dead child, especially an apparition that wasn't an apparition at all. Hisoka was very much a solid, breathing, warm-blooded young man, though Nagare had no way of knowing that the perfect imitation of life was wholly due to Hisoka's status as a shinigami.

"I-I'm not," Hisoka had managed to stammer, trying to control the raging surge of adrenaline that had been released into his bloodstream. He had no idea if his father was going to attack him or not. He could very easily conclude that the being that stood before him was a demon, or some other unnatural creature, taking the form of his son to confuse and distract.

His father didn't attack him, however, nor did he call for assistance from the main house. Though Hisoka assumed most of the household was asleep, as it normally was this time of night, it would only take a few sharp orders from his father for the male servants to be up and ready to defend the estate and their master. Instead, he had turned briskly away from the dumbstruck boy, and made his way back toward the cemetery entrance. A terse _come_ was all it took for Hisoka to fall in behind him. As uncomfortable as his father had always made him, obedience to him had been deeply ingrained into the empath since very early childhood. Without thinking, he submitted to the compulsion, following his father as he headed back toward the main house. He had dropped back further as they got closer to the old building, but not so far as to warrant further orders to follow.

Now, the two of them had their backs to each other, neither having spoken since leaving the cemetery. Nagare was sitting stiffly at the table, and Hisoka was several feet away on the porch, watching the moonlight play among the gardens. Though the door was wide open, leaving no barrier between the two of them, being outside the tearoom's perimeters gave Hisoka a sense of security, as if there was a partition between him and his father. The sense of separation allowed him to rein in his emotions and regain a sense of calm.

It was Nagare who finally broke the silence.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice flat. "You died when you were sixteen, yet you're not a ghost." He paused very briefly. "You can't be alive. I watched them bury you."

"I'm not a ghost," Hisoka conceded, nodding slightly. "I haven't returned to haunt you or this house. But I'm not alive, either. Not truly."

"Then _what are you_?" The boy felt nervousness emanate from his father.

"I'm a...shinigami," Hisoka replied, not sure if his father had heard of such beings. He himself hadn't before his death, that's for sure.

"Shinigami," Nagare repeated. There was no actual question in his voice, but Hisoka could tell from the tone that he was expected to explain.

"I am...an agent of Enma-daiou," he said slowly. There was no need to explain who that was. The name of the Lord of the Underworld was well-known among the Japanese. "My job is to find and put to rest the souls of those who cannot find peace on their own. An 'afterlife detective,' if you will."

"Mm." Though he wasn't looking at him, he had an odd feeling that his father had nodded, as if understanding.

"You've heard of us?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Once, very briefly," Nagare said. "There is a single mention of such beings in an old manuscript that has long been in this family's possession. The name had been written 'shi no kami,' however."

Hisoka nodded briefly. The word "shinigami" was a corruption of "shi no kami," so the manuscript his father mentioned must have been laid down before the original phrase was slurred into the modern word. He wasn't sure how long ago that was, but it must have been a century or two, at least.

"Your spirit has clung to life because unshakable regrets plague you even in death," Nagare continued. "Much like a ghost."

"I suppose you could put it that way," Hisoka shrugged. "But because I'm not a ghost, I like to think I also have some purpose to serve. I feel that I'm meant to-" He abruptly cut himself off. As far as his father was concerned, he had died of an unknown illness. Mentioning his desire to exact revenge upon his murderer would only cause more questions than it answered.

"You feel that you're meant to what?" his father prompted when Hisoka didn't finish his sentence. "Answer me, Hisoka."

The boy flinched. When he had been alive, disobedience had been completely out of the question when his father called him by his name. Usually, he was "boy" or "you," but when he used his son's name, Nagare meant business.

"It's nothing that concerns you," Hisoka said instead, his voice leaving no question of his refusal to answer. He was no longer his father's charge, so he didn't have to follow his orders anymore.

Nagare was silent. It didn't seem at first that he would reiterate his demand for his son to finish his thought, and Hisoka started to wonder if his father felt that he, being technically dead, was no longer required to obey, as Hisoka had just thought. What his father said next, however, took him completely off guard.

"Did you really die because you were ill? Were you even ill at all?"

"How did you...?" Hisoka gasped before he could stop himself. Biting his tongue hard enough to bleed, he mentally kicked himself for the slipup.

He heard his father sigh. "It wasn't an illness, was it?"

Hisoka dropped his head forward, his fists clenching at his sides. "No. I had been cursed." He spun around, his emerald gaze boring into the back of his father's head. "But how do _you_ know about that?"

Nagare shook his head. "I didn't. But...whenever I looked at you as you lay in that hospital bed, I kept having this feeling that there was something else going on. I had this strange sense that what I was seeing was no ordinary illness. It wasn't just because the doctors had never seen anyone with your condition before...I just kept thinking that there had to be something other than disease eating away at you."

Hisoka stared at his father. Crazily, he wondered if Nagare had a higher-than-normal level of intuition, like a sixth sense or something like that. He could tell his father didn't have nearly the level of mental power that he himself had, but he supposed it was possible that he wasn't the only member of the family with senses that surpassed that of a normal human.

_Or maybe he's just a damn good guesser_, he thought.

"So," his father continued when his son made no response, "is finding the one who cursed you your reason for staying behind?"

Muraki's pale, mocking face immediately jumped to mind, and Hisoka hissed in rage. "I've already found him, and I'll show him a hundred ways to die all at once if I ever get the chance!"

Nagare was silent.

"It was the same man..." Hisoka went on, the words spilling haltingly from his lips, "...the same man who...who attacked me when I was thirteen. He cursed me that night...and it took three years for the curse to finally kill me." He was trembling again, breathing hard. A suppressed, pent-up anxiety rose up uncontrollably, causing him to fling a bitter, accusing question at his fathers back. "_Did you even care if they found the man who raped your son?_"

"Yes. I. Did." Nagare's clipped, barely restrained tone spoke of sudden fury. "Do you honestly think I would allow this family to be so shamed without searching under every stone for the guilty one?"

"'This family'?" Hisoka snarled. "_'__This family'_? _Fuck_ this family! You care more about the Kurosaki 'honor' than the fact that _your thirteen-year-old son was found raped and beaten right outside the gods-damned house!_"

"Hisoka," his father snapped, his voice as sharp as Hisoka had ever heard it. "I know you have been aware of how much I feared you. I didn't know what to make of a son who screamed just for being touched. Simply looking at you made me feel so helpless. But," he turned around, looking his son in the eyes, "despite my fear, you were still my son. You were unconscious for nearly two days after you were found, and well-nigh catatonic for days after that, so you wouldn't remember this, but I was absolutely livid that someone dared to do such a thing to you. I was so angry, the servants fled before me."

Hisoka just stared at his father, trying to control his breathing. He sensed no lie in his father's eyes or emotions. Guilt began to trickle into his thoughts, but it was nearly drowned out by the firmly established anger and resentment that was flowing through him. His father had neglected him for as long as he could remember. That wasn't something he could so easily cast aside.

Nagare turned back around, meshing his fingers in front of his face and resting his forehead on them. "The police did everything humanly possible to find your attacker. A woman was found murdered in the same area at the same time, so you weren't his only victim. But the investigation went nowhere right from the start. They couldn't even find any biological evidence on or in either you or the woman." He paused for a moment. "Apparently, whoever raped you used some form of protection."

Hisoka frowned at this. Muraki had done no such thing. He remembered very clearly the feeling of the demented surgeon ejaculating into him. The scalding heat and overwhelming sense of disgust and horror wasn't just something his traumatized mind had made up. Muraki had definitely left semen in him. It was as if the doctor had a spell or some other form of sorcery that did away with any evidence linking him to his victims. The silver hair recovered in the Kyoto case had been deliberately planted, after all, and that was the only physical evidence pointing toward Muraki that Hisoka ever remembered them finding at any of the crime scenes.

He stiffened as a thought came suddenly to him, his eyes widening a fraction.

_There isn't so much as even __DNA__ evidence left behind, even with those that have been raped._

The empath shook his head, hastily pushing that thought away. _Don't think about that_. _Not now, not now, not now..._

"I know who it is," he said quietly, his voice hoarse, "but telling the police would be useless. They can't do anything about this, about him." He sighed shakily. "I have to take care of him myself. I have to make sure he doesn't do this to anyone else!"

Nagare nodded. "Then may the gods ensure your victory."

Hisoka blinked, surprised. Never before had his father offered him his blessing in anything. It was so strange to hear such words come from him. Very quietly, he muttered his thanks, not looking at his father as he did so.

"Speaking of murderers," he ground out after a moment of absolute silence, "why in all the hells is your brother still a free man after what he did?"

Nagare didn't respond, but he did turn around to look at his son again. His eyes, the same vibrant green as Hisoka's, were closed off.

"I know what he did to my sister," the boy continued in the same deadly tone. "Your _daughter_! I know you know it, too. I heard you yelling at him about it when I was a child." Stomping closer, he grabbed his father by the front of his yukata, yelling into his face. "_Your own brother!_ _Why do you let him go unpunished?_"

"_Do you think I never tried?_" Nagare bit back, and Hisoka nearly stumbled away with the sudden force of his father's anger. "He didn't bother to hide it from me! I tried everything to get the police involved, but there was no evidence to give them but my 'knowing' what he did! The coroner submitted that damned SIDS diagnosis and that was the end of it! I was written off as a grieving father giving in to hysteria! _Do you have any idea how maddening that is?_"

Hisoka did step back at this point. His eyes were wide, and he swallowed thickly, his throat dry. His father was being completely honest, and he felt a new surge of anger directed at his uncle. As much as he disliked his father, he felt his own emotions emulating Nagare's. Disposing of an "unwanted" daughter had caused more chaos in this family than could be imagined.

"I lost my wife because of what that thrice-damned brother of mine did," Nagare continued. "As if losing my daughter wasn't enough! I had to watch Kasane waste away to nothing! I buried my wife not two months after I buried my daughter!"

The young shinigami turned away, his teeth chattering slightly. "You never loved Kaasan," he said, no question in his voice. "She was just a replacement. You loved Kasane-obasan, not her. She just conveniently looked exactly like the woman you truly wanted." He squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body shaking with rage. "She was just a replacement, and so was I! You couldn't even think of a different name for me!"

"It's true," Nagare admitted after a slight hesitation. "Your mother is no more pleased with this marriage than I am. She was so happy when you were born, however. She has no love for me, but she adored you. You were her little darling, after all." He dipped his head down, his voice lowering to just barely above a whisper. I think...that's why she went so mad when you became 'strange.' Her only solace in life had turned against her."

"Don't make it out to be my fault!" Hisoka hissed, his eyes flashing. "I had no control over it! There's _no excuse_ for what she did to me! _Nothing_ justifies a mother abusing her child like that!"

His father had nothing to say to that. He merely stared at his son, his eyes offering neither sympathy nor apology.

Hisoka whipped around, growling angrily. "Where is Kaasan, anyway?"

"She's asleep," Nagare answered.

"Good," the boy snorted sardonically. "I want to see her even less than I want to see you." He looked back over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirking up curiously. "By the way, why haven't you two had another child yet? Isn't producing an heir your most important priority now? I'm dead, you know."

"There will be no further children from me," his father said flatly. "I simply will not have an heir."

"Does Kaasan refuse to let you get her pregnant again?" Hisoka asked, obvious mockery in his voice. "She doesn't want to birth another little monster like me, does she?"

"No," his father shook his head. "That's not it. It is _my_ choice. The family line must die with me."

Hisoka's eyes widened again. He most certainly hadn't expected _that_. "What...?"

"The Kurosaki clan doesn't deserve to go on. I allowed both of my children to be murdered. I couldn't protect my daughter from my own brother, and I left my son to suffer alone at the hands of a madwoman. And not only were you raped so viciously, practically under my nose, but I couldn't do anything to catch the one responsible for it. I've utterly failed as a father with both your sister and you." Nagare closed his eyes, and Hisoka could sense a strong feeling of self-loathing seep through his father. "The deaths of my children are punishment for the corruption that has settled into this family, and a sign from the gods that we must not be allowed to go on. We have sunk so low, I have no choice but to let our line die out. The estate will be dissolved upon my death. I have already had my will drawn up and finalized. No one will be able to contest it."

The honey-blond shinigami stared silently at his father. A strange sense of calm was settling over him. The idea of his ancient family dying out at the whim of its questionably sane patriarch elicited no feelings of regret whatsoever in him. His life before death had been a nearly continuous streak of misery, so the clan's demise didn't faze him in the slightest. He had no love for them, and lineage was overrated, anyway.

"Do what you want," he said coldly. "I don't give a fuck."

The next moment, he was gone. Nagare was left alone, staring at the empty space his son had just been occupying.

Hisoka's departing words echoed in his head long after he had retired to bed.

* * *

"Oy, Tsuzuki! Quittin' time!"

Tsuzuki leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. His back popped loudly as he arched it forward. "Finally," he yawned. "I thought today would never end."

Watari trotted up next to him as he rose to his feet. "You goin' to see Bon tonight?"

"Yeah," Tsuzuki nodded. "I'm gonna go check on him, see how he's doing." His young partner had called in sick today, which hadn't surprised Tsuzuki at all. Not only had he discovered some pretty terrible things concerning his own family just yesterday, but he also had a lot of sleep to catch up on. Hisoka likely wasn't actually ill, but he deserved to take a sick day nonetheless. Unfortunately, that left Tsuzuki stuck in the office again with a stack of paperwork.

"I really wish we could do something to help the kid," his bespectacled friend muttered, an uncharacteristic moodiness in his voice. "He's been having a hell of a time lately."

"I know," the older shinigami said, sadness settling over his face. "It's tearing me apart watching him suffer like he is. If I could, I'd chase all his problems away. It's so rare to see him smile anyway, but...it's been even less common than usual lately."

"Just keep your hopes up," Watari said as he punched out. He placed a hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder as his best friend punched out as well. "Things'll get better. Just make sure he knows you're there for him, and he'll recover in time." He smiled his easy, friendly grin. "He trusts you. If there's only one person who can help him get through this, it's you."

Tsuzuki smiled thinly, looking down at the floor. "Thanks, Watari. I'm glad you have faith that I can do this."

"Hey, of course I do." The scientist patted 003 as the little owl came flying from the direction of his lab, settling on his shoulder with an indignant hoot at being left behind. "Tatsumi does, too. We all see how close you two are, and we believe in you. Things'll work out in the end, you just have to keep at it."

"You're being awfully serious, Watari," Tsuzuki chided, his smile widening. "Did you spike your own coffee again?"

"Hey now, be nice!" Watari laughed. "I can be serious when I want to be! Really, though, I care a lot about you two. I want to see you happy just like everyone else does."

"Thanks," the violet-eyed man said softly. "That means a lot to me."

"Glad to hear it," Watari smiled, patting Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Go on, then. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

"I'm not so sure of that," Tsuzuki mumbled as they parted ways, though Watari didn't seem to hear. For all he knew, Hisoka could end up doing exactly what he had done on Sunday. That is, lock himself into his apartment and refuse to acknowledge any and all attempts to get in touch with him. The boy had a habit of retreating into himself when he was upset about something, a habit that Tsuzuki really wanted him to break. Internalizing all his negative emotions couldn't be good for his health.

_It's not like I have any right to criticize_, he thought, rolling his eyes at himself. He was quite well-practiced at putting up a false front of cheerfulness, after all. At least with Hisoka it was obvious when the young empath was brooding over something. Tsuzuki wasnt quite so easy to read.

Retrieving his black overcoat from the closet near the office entrance, he exited the large building and stepped into the perpetually blooming sakura garden outside. He breathed in deep, inhaling the delicate scent of the numberless blossoms, letting their understated sweetness leech the tension from his muscles. If he was going to see Hisoka, he didn't want to force the empath to deal with any discomfort coming from him. Hisoka had enough on his mind as it was.

_I love you, Hisoka_, he thought, watching the pink and white petals fall like snowflakes, _and I'll do everything in my power to help you out._

Closing his eyes, he fazed from view, translocating away from the Enmachou compound and into the residential district nearby. As he gazed up at the nondescript building Hisoka made his home in, he felt butterflies flutter around in his stomach. He didn't know what to expect when he knocked on his partner's door.

_Maybe I should have called beforehand to let him know I was coming..._

It was too late for that now, so he mounted the stairs up to the floor Hisoka lived on. It was quiet here, almost too quiet. He knew Hisoka preferred peaceful environments, but this apartment building could be downright spooky in its silence. It was as if Hisoka was the only one living here sometimes.

He stopped in front of the empath's door. He had no doubt that Hisoka already knew he was here. His partner could sense a person's presence from a fair distance away, and he had once told Tsuzuki that he had become especially attuned to his older partner's spiritual signature, as they spent so much time together. Tsuzuki didnt know whether to be happy or unhappy about that. On one hand, Hisoka may be more willing after a while to let Tsuzuki get closer to him, but on the other hand, he was probably privy to more of Tsuzuki's emotions that concerned him than was ideal. The increased sensitivity may scare him off rather than draw him closer.

Sighing and shaking his head, Tsuzuki raised his hand to knock. Before he could do so, however, the sound of a lock being turned could be heard, and the door opened.

Hisoka stood on the other side, looking disheveled and irritable. In all honesty, it was normal to see a scowl on the boy's face, but today he seemed particularly annoyed.

"Uh...hi!" Tsuzuki said with a nervous smile, raising his hand in greeting. Hisoka hadn't even taken the chain off his door yet, so they were looking at each other through a gap of only a couple of inches. Apparently, he hadn't left his apartment at all the entire day.

"What do you want, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka demanded. Tsuzuki could detect exhaustion behind the snippy tone.

"I came to see how you're doing," he answered honestly. "I'm worried about you, Hisoka. I just want to see that you're okay."

"I'm not okay, but thanks for the concern," his partner sighed, rubbing at his eyes with the hand not holding the doorknob. He started to close the door. "Just leave me alone, Tsuzuki."

"Wait," Tsuzuki said quickly, sticking his hand in the door to prevent its closing. "Don't shut me out, Hisoka. You're hurting right now. I can see it in your eyes."

"That's nothing new," the empath muttered. "Life hasn't exactly been a cakewalk for me."

"It hasn't been a cakewalk for me, either. I know how you're feeling right now. Please, let me inside. I can't stand seeing you like this."

"Just go away, and you won't _have_ to see me like this." The boy's familiar sarcasm was present in full force, to which Tsuzuki felt a rush of exasperation.

"Hisoka," he said, his tone conveying how childish he thought his partner sounded.

Hisoka stood there silently for a long moment, looking down at the floor. His eyes were red and blurry as if he had just gotten out of bed, and his hair was sticking up in places. He was wearing a tank top and light sweat pants, clothes that were comfortable to sleep in. Considering his near total lack of rest this past weekend, he had probably spent most of today asleep.

Finally, he spoke. "Move your hand."

"I'm not letting you shut me out, Hisoka!"

"No, I mean I can't take the chain off without closing the door first."

Tsuzuki blinked, taken off guard by the boy's acquiescence. He had expected more of a fight. _This is a good sign!_

He removed his hand from the doorjamb, allowing Hisoka to close the door. The metallic sounds of a chain being taken down could be heard, and then the door was open again, wide enough to allow Tsuzuki to enter.

"Thanks," he said, giving Hisoka a smile and a warm pat on the shoulder.

Hisoka swung the door shut, almost slamming it. "Well? What is it you want to talk about?"

"There isn't anything I really feel we need to talk about. I just wanted to make sure you're doing all right." Tsuzuki stepped further into the apartment, having removed his shoes and left them by the door.

The boy plopped down on the couch, shading his eyes with his hand. "I told you, I'm not."

Tsuzuki gingerly sat down beside him, making sure to keep his distance. He had a feeling that any unwelcome touch would elicit the same type of reaction as what Watari had barely dodged the day before. Maybe not as violent, but just as hostile.

"Is there anything _you_ want to talk about...?" he asked quietly. He hoped the feeling of his concern was a comfort to Hisoka rather than an irritant. He was never sure how the boy would react to things when he fell into one of his moods.

Hisoka was silent at first, his eyes shielded by his hand and hair. He seemed petulant, or perhaps he was arguing with himself over something. Finally, he gave a long sigh, sitting up a little straighter and rubbing at his eyes, as if scrubbing sleepiness away.

"I...I spoke with my father last night," he said, almost whispering.

"WHAT?" Tsuzuki burst out before he could stop himself. He mentally kicked himself when he saw Hisoka flinch, and tried to rein in his feelings of shock. "You let him see you?"

"I didn't _let_ him see me," Hisoka snapped. He looked away, a scowl crossed with a pout settling on his face. "He came upon me unawares."

Tsuzuki just stared. How could _anyone_ come upon Hisoka unawares? That was like trying to hide sugar from ants.

As if sensing his partner's confusion (which was likely), Hisoka explained, "I had returned to the family cemetery to pay my respects to my sister. I brought her some lilies, and I was praying to her and for her. I...I was just so caught up in it, that I had no idea someone was coming closer. You'd think I'd sense my own father, but...I guess not in this case." He sighed again, rubbing at his neck as if it were sore. "I don't know if he was coming to pray, or to just spend time among his relatives, or what. I never asked. He was probably more surprised to see me than I was to realize he was there. I mean, his dead son had shown up out of nowhere, apparently alive and well. Who ever expects to see _that_?"

Tsuzuki nodded slowly.

Haltingly, Hisoka told Tsuzuki about the conversation between him and his father. His voice was quiet for the most part, but it rose shrilly when he came to the subject of his uncle murdering his sister. He was trembling, his bare feet coming up to rest on the edge of the couch cushion, his knees folded up close to his chest. The thought of the man going unpunished for such a horrendous crime was absolutely infuriating. He had always been terrified of his father's older brother, but now all he felt for him was a seething hatred.

Gently, Tsuzuki put his arm around Hisoka's shoulders, scooting closer. "Just relax," he murmured, hoping his sympathy would provide Hisoka with some comfort. "Even if he goes unpunished in life, he'll get what's coming to him after death. His sins will be judged just like everyone else's."

"I know," Hisoka hissed, breathing deep in his anger. "I'm just _so angry_ right now. I want to strangle that bastard with my own two hands!"

Tsuzuki said nothing to that, but he could understand Hisoka's rage. He had felt the exact same way toward Muraki after learning of the rape and murder of his young partner. The doctor's sick delight in recounting the vile assault had only heightened his desire for vengeance.

After a long moment of silence, he posed a question that had been fluttering about in his mind since the conversation began. He was curious, if nothing else. "And...your view of your parents...has that changed at all?"

"No," Hisoka replied without hesitation. "I know now that my father did perhaps care for me in some way, but that doesn't excuse what he did to me. It doesn't justify allowing my mother to abuse me like she did. His fear concerning my 'inhuman' senses overrode any paternal impulses he may have felt. I cannot forgive him for that."

"Are you sure?" Tsuzuki asked, not looking at his partner. "I mean, the remorse he feels now is such that he's willing to let the family die with him. That's gotta mean something."

"It doesn't matter," Hisoka shook his head. "The remorse he feels isn't just for me, anyway, but for my sister as well. And my aunt. Feeling guilt after the fact isn't an automatic ticket to forgiveness." He looked over at Tsuzuki, his eyes flashing with quiet conviction. "I don't _have_ to forgive him or my mother, Tsuzuki. Finding closure doesn't have to include forgiving everyone who wronged you. Some people just don't deserve forgiveness."

Tsuzuki met Hisoka's eyes, searching. When he found nothing but brutal honesty, he looked away. "Yes, I guess you're right. It's your choice, Hisoka." He didn't feel he had any right to needle Hisoka about refusing to forgive his parents. He himself had never forgiven his own parents for abusing him, and likely never would. Sometimes it was better to just cut ties with one's past rather than trying to reconcile with it.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said quietly, looking away. He seemed nervous all of a sudden, or maybe guiltily curious. "Have...have you ever thought about looking at your own file in the archives? To find out about the period of your life after running away from home, I mean."

"I have, a few times," Tsuzuki admitted with a nod. "I've always thought better of it, though. When it comes right down to it, I don't really _want_ to know about that part of my life. I figure that finding out would only cause more harm than good. Some things are better left forgotten."

Hisoka made a small sound of agreement, or at least of acceptance. He understood what Tsuzuki was saying. Finding out what he had done to survive on the streets, which may or may not include some rather stomach-churning possibilities, wouldn't do any good in the long run, and in all likelihood would only delay Tsuzuki's coming to terms with his life. There were also the rumors he had heard of his partner harming or possibly even killing people just prior to being hospitalized. He shuddered. He wouldn't want to remember the details of something like that, either.

His thoughts were interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn, and he brought his hand up to his mouth in a futile attempt to hide it.

Tsuzuki grinned sympathetically. "Tired?"

"Yeah. I've been sleeping off and on all day, but I still feel like I've been hit by a bus."

"You _look_ like you've been hit by a bus," Tsuzuki chuckled, taking in his partner's unkempt appearance. Hisoka was always meticulously groomed, and the only time Tsuzuki could remember seeing him looking somewhat sloppy was during the case in Okinawa, when he was fighting heatstroke. "I'll leave you alone now," he said, starting to stand up. "You get as much rest as you can, Hisoka."

"Wait," Hisoka said, grasping the arm of his overcoat. When Tsuzuki looked at him, eyebrows raised in question, he let go, suddenly feeling incredibly shy. He looked away, hiding his emerald gaze.

"What is it?" Tsuzuki asked, sitting back down. "Is there something you need me to do?"

"Will you..." the empath began, sounding like a child about to admit a wrongdoing, "...will you...stay with me? Just watch over me as I sleep?"

The older shinigami's eyes widened in shock. That was the _last_ thing he had expected to hear come out of his partner. His shock was almost immediately replaced with a flood of hope. The amount of trust Hisoka placed in him in order to make such a request must be tremendous indeed. He smiled warmly. "Of course, Hisoka. Anything you need."

Hisoka stayed still for a long moment, then hesitantly shifted, motioning for Tsuzuki to move over and give him room to lie down. He very slowly placed his head in his partner's lap, relaxing as Tsuzuki's warm affection washed over him.

"You're not going to tell anyone I made contact with my father, are you?" Hisoka asked sleepily as Tsuzuki gently rested a hand on his silky hair. Though it wasn't the most serious infraction that could be committed, shinigami were all but forbidden from having any contact with their loved ones (or unloved ones, in Hisoka's case). Doing so could cause more trouble than it was worth.

"Nope," Tsuzuki smiled. "If I can keep secret that Chizuru-chan let herself be seen by one of her friends, I can keep secret your encounter with your father."

"Thanks, Tsuzuki," Hisoka murmured, sinking down into his fatigue. The gentle brush of his partner's fingers in his hair quickly lulled him into sleep.

The older man's smile softened, gazing down at his young partner. He loved this boy dearly, and would do anything humanly - shinigami-ly? - possible to ensure his safety and happiness.

"Sweet dreams, Hisoka," he whispered to the sleeping empath. "I love you."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** I got this written much quicker than I expected to. Not that I'm complaining. I'm sure you're all happy about it.

Again, I hope my portrayal of Nagare didn't ruffle any feathers. I didn't want to depict him as a complete bastard regarding his son, but I didn't want to write him as a sobbing penitent, either. His aristocratic pride wouldn't allow that kind of behavior, anyway. My goal was for him to have severely contradicting emotions when it comes to his second child, and I hope I succeeded. This being mainly an anime fic, his personality and sanity haven't been damaged by Yatonogami's possession of him, so I imagine he's mentally much more "normal" here than in manga canon. I hope nobody minds this.

I also couldn't help sneaking a little TsuSoka fluff in at the end. Don't get me wrong, they still have a long way to go, but Hisoka does trust Tsuzuki more than he trusts anyone else, and it's plausible that he'd reach out to him for reassurance when feeling vulnerable.

Oh, and as for Nagare having a "sixth sense"...take that as you will. I'm not saying he's psychic or anything. Some people just have a higher level of intuition than others. Even if he _does_ have some kind of superhuman sensitivity - though by no means anywhere near as powerful as his son - it's kind of a moot point in regards to this story. It doesn't really matter, it's just a brief suspicion that Hisoka has during his conversation with his father. That's all.

Anyway, leave a review if you feel the need to. TTFN!


	12. Flesh Wounds

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks again to EchizenRyomaLover, Riaries, spiritmind675, and mooopower for reading and reviewing chapter eleven! Also, thanks to SereneIceDragon for reviewing chapter ten literally minutes before I posted chapter eleven.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Twelve: Flesh Wounds**

"TSUZUKI!"

Hisoka ran through the close-lying trees, his lungs burning and his heart pounding in his chest. He could sense his partner was somewhere in front of him, but that was all he was sure of. The empath was reluctant to pinpoint Tsuzuki's exact location, as doing so would open his mind to the fierce conflict his partner was now caught up in. He had already tried it once, and was in no hurry to do it again. He hadn't exactly reacted well to the sensation of his head being split open by a poison-tipped icicle.

He and Tsuzuki had been sent to a large town in Kyushu's northern region whose population had recently suffered a rash of unprovoked seizures. So far, six people had fallen victim, their bodies going into violent convulsions with no warning, blood pouring from their mouths, noses, ears, and eyes. In every case, the victim's aorta had eventually ruptured, causing near instant death. Autopsies revealed that the cardiovascular system of each victim had suffered catastrophic damage throughout the body, and the nature of the damage suggested that it happened suddenly and quickly. There was no reason to believe that any of them had cardiovascular problems prior to the seizures, which left the authorities completely baffled. What could cause six healthy adults in six separate locations to deteriorate so quickly and with such lethality?

Tsuzuki and Hisoka had known why. They were there to contain and bring back to Meifu the corrupted forest spirit responsible for the attacks. The spirit, whose power was originally of healing and growth, responsible for the flourishing of the surrounding forest and the wildlife that inhabited it, had gone mad after years of its domain falling prey to human development, and had finally struck out at what it perceived to be nature's enemy. Its powers had gone inside out, healing and replenishing turning to harm and destruction. It had used this inverted healing power to ravage the bodies of its six victims - randomly chosen, as far as the shinigami could tell - and there was no reason to believe it would stop with those six. If left alone, there was no telling how many people would have their hearts explode in their chests. It had to be stopped, and quickly.

They had cornered the creature in a clothing warehouse near the edge of town, but it had escaped into the woods before they could stop it. During the resulting chase, Hisoka had been staggered by a direct attack upon his mind, the creature using its distorted powers to tear at his psyche. Perhaps it had recognized Hisoka as an empath and had used this to its advantage, assaulting the boy's mind before he could realize his danger and strengthen his shields.

Tsuzuki had given an enraged yell, immediately firing off an attack of his own, five fuda appearing seemingly out of thin air in front of him, shafts of light connecting them and forming a pentagram enclosed in a circle. The force of the energy released had blasted the creature back away from Hisoka and thrown it against a tree, the trunk splintering on impact.

Hisoka had fallen to the ground, gasping in pain. To his immense relief, Tsuzuki had beaten the enemy back before it could do any substantial damage. His psyche was badly shaken, and horror surged through him at the realization that he could have quite possibly been driven insane, but he knew he would recover in time.

By the time he had pulled himself together, Tsuzuki and the creature were gone. His senses told him his partner and their adversary were nearby, engaged in a deadly struggle. Fear had taken hold of him, and he was racing toward where he felt them to be, terrified for Tsuzuki. The older shinigami was powerful, but neither of them really knew the full extent of what the creature was capable of. Hisoka had no idea how likely it was that Tsuzuki would come out on the losing end, and the empath was frantic to get to his partner. His pulse was pounding in his throat and ears, sounding like a taiko drum juxtaposed against the loud rasping of his breath.

"Hisoka, _look out!_" Tsuzuki's voice suddenly rang out. Without thinking, Hisoka threw himself to the ground, a whistling sound and a ripple of air passing over him a split second later. Strands of blond hair floated down to the grass around his face, and he realized with a shock that it had come from his own head.

Risking a look up, he saw the creature standing frighteningly close to his left, a long narrow sword in its hands. Blood dripped off the blade, lingering in the shallow etchings of leaves and vines that stretched from point to hilt. With a hiss, the creature brought the sword to bear again, pointing it directly at Hisoka's face.

"_Don't you touch him._"

Hisoka jerked, the snarl startling him. Taking his eyes off the creature, he looked to his right. Tsuzuki stood there, bleeding from several shallow - and some not so shallow - gashes that crisscrossed his skin. His clothes were sliced in places, blood from the wounds underneath staining the fabric a deep red.

The creature growled, not fazed by Tsuzuki's warning, and took a step toward the boy on the ground.

"I said _stay back__!_" Tsuzuki yelled, his hand snapping forward, a fuda between his fingers. A shielding spell enclosed itself around the empath, and the creature stepped back, looking alarmed. Hisoka knew why; he could tell that this was the kind of barrier that would explode if an enemy touched it, lethal to humans and highly damaging to most non-human entities.

"Tsuzuki..." Hisoka managed to gasp, his breath still rattling in his chest. He pushed himself up into a kneeling position, watching his partner. The look of sheer rage on the man's face was frightening.

"Get over here, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said shortly. "Get behind me."

Hisoka didn't need any further convincing. Stumbling up to his feet, he quickly put Tsuzuki between himself and the creature. His pride rebelled at the notion of hiding behind his partner, but his logic drowned out the protests, stating firmly that this enemy was very dangerous, and that full-out combat was Tsuzuki's area of expertise, not his. The empath was instead training to be a healer and an exorcist, and he had lapsed on the few attack spells he had learned before starting his current training. He was out of practice with those particular spells. Leaving the fight to Tsuzuki was the most rational choice of action.

"Stay back, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said softly, his voice low. He pulled another fuda from his sleeve. The flowing kanji on the enchanted paper told Hisoka that this was a high-level banishing spell. His partner was about to attempt to expel their opponent from the mortal plane. If it wouldn't go quietly to Enmachou to be judged for its crimes, then Tsuzuki would just have to force it.

"Tsuzuki, be careful," he replied. "That thing is absolutely insane. It'll rip you to shreds if you give it even half a chance."

"I'll say this one more time," Tsuzuki said, acknowledging Hisoka's warning with a curt nod. "You are under orders to go before Enma-daiou and face judgment for your crimes."

"What crimes?" the creature sneered, its sword ready to strike should Tsuzuki come any closer.

"You've murdered six innocent humans," Tsuzuki explained, his tone indicating that he had said it before and wasn't too keen on having to say it again. It sounded like he was speaking to a difficult child.

"'Innocent'!" the creature snarled. "Humanity is a curse upon this planet! They destroy all that is good and natural in this world to make room for their twisted, barren cities! They've been raping Mother Earth for millennia! It's high time they pay for their sins!"

"That's not for you to decide," Tsuzuki countered. "You have no right to kill six innocent people, no matter how angry you are. You've committed a grave offense in the eyes of my superiors, and if you won't come back with me quietly, I'll just have to drag you there myself."

"Humankind has become more environmentally aware in the past few decades," Hisoka added, stepping forward, yet still keeping Tsuzuki between himself and the creature. "Efforts are being made the world over to lessen the damage done to the planet, and even to reverse some of it."

"That's not enough!" the creature cut in, its hazel-green eyes flashing in outrage. "They still have to pay for what they've done!"

Tsuzuki gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine then; I'm through going back and forth like this. We have a job to do." Raising the fuda up in front of his face, magic surged up from Tsuzuki's fingertips and into the crisp paper, activating the powerful spell contained therein. "This is your last chance to surrender quietly. I promise you, resisting will only make it all the more uncomfortable." When the creature made no move to submit, the chocolate-haired shinigami continued forward, the fuda pulsing between his fingers.

And then the creature did something neither of them expected.

With a shrill, bone-chilling howl, it charged directly at Tsuzuki, its sword swinging high, droplets of blood flying off the blade as it arced upwards. In the space of less than a second, it had brought the sword down and across, a blood-curdling scream tearing from its throat.

The sound of ripping cloth and skin reached Hisoka's ears, and Tsuzuki was thrown backwards into him. Blood sprayed from the man's torso, the sickening sound of liquid striking the ground following an instant later.

"TSUZUKI!" Hisoka shrieked, stumbling back, unable to keep his partner from falling to the ground. He nearly choked on the acrid, coppery smell now filling the air, and he fell to his knees beside the taller man, his eyes wide with terror. Usually, seeing Tsuzuki injured didn't cause him quite so much distress, a shinigami's accelerated healing ability taking care of all but the worst damage in a matter of minutes, if not seconds. In his gut, though, he knew that what he was seeing was no normal injury. "Tsuzuki! _Tsuzuki!_"

Fingers clamped down on his nape, claws digging into the delicate skin of his neck. He was hauled upright, and before he could even think of reacting, he was slammed face first up against a broad tree trunk. He felt the bones and cartilage in his nose shatter, blood spurting from his nostrils and torn skin. He cried out hoarsely, nearly paralyzed by the pain.

His assailant didn't speak, but Hisoka did feel a rush of malicious triumph, the creature's emotions violently flooding his mind and nearly drowning out his own.

By the time he felt the ball of volatile energy gathering within the trunk that he was pressed up against, it was too late to react. The trunk exploded, wood splintering and flying in all directions. Fragments, both large and small, buried themselves in Hisoka's flesh, some going deep enough to strike bone. The empath gave a raspy wheeze, his voice choked off by the agony.

His head and shoulders came up hard against the ground, his first indication that the creature had flung him backward. He had been so preoccupied by the pain that his brain had failed to register his change in position until he hit the ground. He hadn't even heard the crash as the top part of the tree smashed into the ground on the other side of the pulverized trunk, which was now little more than a stump.

He simply lay there, gasping for breath. His nose was already healing, but the splinters of wood embedded in his flesh would have to be pulled out in order for those wounds to close. As it was, he didn't think he had the strength to push himself into a sitting position, much less forcibly extract who knows how many foreign objects from his skin. He coughed, tasting blood. Either the shockwave from the explosion had damaged his lungs, or some splinters had torn all the way through into his organs. Hisoka groaned, hoping it wasn't the latter. He didn't particularly care to have organic shrapnel buried in his insides for the rest of his second life.

"You side with the humans," the creature growled, towering over him. "You're just as guilty as they are." It raised the sword above its head. "I can't kill a shinigami, but I wonder how well you'd fare with your head permanently separated from your body. Let's find out, shall we?"

Hisoka stiffened. _Oh gods, no!_ He didn't know what happened if a shinigami was decapitated, but it looked like he was about to experience whatever it was firsthand. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the sword to come slicing through his neck...

...and nothing happened.

After a few seconds of unimaginable tension, Hisoka realized that his head was still attached to his body. Cautiously, he opened one eye to see what the holdup was.

The creature was still looming over him, but it was frozen in the act of swinging the blade down toward Hisoka's neck. A look of utter shock was on its face, an odd gurgling sound coming from its throat, as if it were trying to speak but couldn't.

Belatedly, Hisoka realized that the creature's body was being overtaken by a magic that could only have come from a shinigami. More specifically, a magic that could only have come from Tsuzuki Asato. Swinging his gaze downward, Hisoka saw his partner, his right hand grasping one of the creature's ankles. The fuda holding the banishing spell was between Tsuzuki's hand and the creature's leg, fairly crackling with energy. Tsuzuki had dragged himself over from where he had fallen, striking while the creature had its attention on Hisoka. He was now lying on his side, his other arm curled around his injured belly, a malicious smile stretching his lips.

"Idiot," he hissed through teeth clenched in pain. "You turned your back on a still-living opponent. Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_"

As he spit out the last word, Tsuzuki bent all his will upon the fuda, unleashing the banishing spell in its full force. Violet-black energy exploded upward, engulfing the creature in a pulsating sea of darkness.

Hisoka was slammed back against the ground with the force of the spell, stars bursting in his vision as his head connected hard. The world spun for a moment, and he only half registered the creature's enraged shriek as it was swallowed by the spell and forcibly ejected from the human world. The empath's mind blanked out briefly, and he would later wonder if he hadn't actually lost consciousness for a few seconds. When he became fully aware again, he and Tsuzuki were the only ones present, both lying bleeding on the forest floor. The creature was gone, cast out of the physical realm to stand trial for its crimes in Meifu.

The boy jerked as an anguished cry reached his ears. Looking over at his partner, his face went paler than it already was, heart nearly stopping in his chest.

Tsuzuki lay curled up on the grass, both arms now around his middle. Blood was pooling around him, spurting from the gash in his belly in time with his heartbeat. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony, lips pulled back from clenched teeth. His breath was coming fast and shallow, and he was visibly trembling.

_Oh gods!_ Hisoka managed to roll to his hands and knees, the fear that suddenly flooded his system forcing his muscles to act. Stumbling to his feet, he staggered over to his partner. Those few feet seemed like a hundred miles to the empath.

"Tsuzuki, what happened?" he cried out as he dropped to his knees again, hovering over the older man. "Why are you...?"

"That sword," Tsuzuki hissed. "It...it must have...had some kind of magic in it...impeding my healing ability. The spirit is a...an inverted healer now. It makes sense that...a blade infused with its magic would keep...my body from healing like it...should." The taller shinigami was breathing heavily, his voice shaking so badly that he could barely get the words out. The pain he was in was immense. The lacerations he had already received when Hisoka found him were still open, blood dripping slowly from the scalpel-thin gashes. It seemed Tsuzuki was right about the creature's weapon.

Without waiting to be asked, Hisoka gripped the tattered remains of Tsuzuki's shirt and ripped it open, exposing his bloodied torso. A gaping wound slashed across his belly, going from just above his right hip to the bottom edge of his left pectoral. The younger shinigami swallowed thickly, nausea welling up in him. Whenever Tsuzuki inhaled, the wound spread open a little wider, and Hisoka swore he could see organs. Forcing down the sick feeling, he pushed Tsuzuki onto his back and leaned over him, his hands hovering over his ruined skin.

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki rasped. "We have to get back to Meifu. We _have_ to get to the infirmary! _Right now!_"

Hisoka ignored his partner's demands. Instead, he closed his eyes, his lips moving silently in a series of incantations his teacher had taught him. His hands tingled as healing power gathered in his palms, spreading outward and concentrating in his fingers.

"Damn it, Hisoka!" Tsuzuki yelled, grabbing his partner's wrist. "_You're injured too!_"

"This is more important, Tsuzuki!" Hisoka bit back. "_My_ injuries will heal on their own once these splinters are pulled out. _You_, on the other hand, can't wait any longer!" With that, he released the spell, the gathered energy pouring swiftly from his fingertips and into Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki arched up, eyes going wide. His vibrant amethysts slammed shut again as he collapsed back down, a choked wail forcing itself from his throat. He could feel his tissues slowly knitting themselves back together, and by the _gods_, it hurt.

_I'm sorry, Tsuzuki!_ Hisoka silently cried. _I'm not very good yet! I don't know how to stop the pain!_

For several minutes, neither of them moved, Hisoka bending his will upon the healing spell he was in the midst of executing, and Tsuzuki holding as still as possible, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from crying out again. Little by little, the wound in Tsuzuki's torso sealed itself shut.

Hisoka's shoulders slumped as he finished, his head dropping forward and his hands falling to his sides. He was breathing hard and trembling even harder, but he managed to stay on his knees, despite the overwhelming urge to collapse to the grass.

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki," he whispered shakily, saying aloud the words that had screamed through his head a few moments earlier. "I-I'm still learning. I don't know yet how to make it not hurt!"

Tsuzuki painstakingly pushed himself up into a sitting position. There was still a long, thin mark on his stomach where the wound had been, like a fresh scar. Though the empath had repaired the majority of the damage, his powers were not yet refined enough to erase the injury completely. Nevertheless, Tsuzuki felt a rush of gratefulness for the immense effort his partner had put out for his sake.

"Don't worry about it, Hisoka," he said, wrapping the boy in a weak hug. "You did everything you could. I can't ask for anything more than that."

Hisoka sagged in his partner's embrace, exhausted. The pain he felt coming from Tsuzuki, as well as the pain in his own body, had been tiring enough, but now he was completely drained thanks to his energy reserves depleting themselves in the effort to heal Tsuzuki's horrendous wound. "I'm so tired..."

"Come on, let's go back," Tsuzuki whispered, holding his partner as tightly as he dared. There were still jagged pieces of wood sticking out of Hisoka's skin, after all.

The next moment, they were gone. The only reminder that they had been there was the dark red stains on the grass. After the next rain, there would be no trace of them left at all, the falling water washing the dried blood from the forest floor.

The area was quiet again.

* * *

Watari Yutaka leaned on his left hand, staring down at the paper in front of him. In his right hand he held a pencil, scribbling out numbers and figures like most people do with letters and words. His mind, brilliant by even the most elitist of standards, could tear through the most complex of mathematical equations with a speed and accuracy most people would liken to that of a central processing unit.

It was no wonder Enma-daiou had chosen him as one of the main programmers of Meifu's master computer system.

The strawberry-blond scientist suddenly paused, his pencil frozen in the middle of writing the number five as if someone had flipped his switch to "off." His amber eyes darted over the figures littering the paper, a frown settling over his face.

"Damn it," he said at length, tossing the pencil down and leaning back in his chair. "This isn't going to work, either." He was working on tweaking the formula for his sex-change potion, all previous attempts at making said potion having utterly failed. One of the more spectacular failures had resulted in him and Tsuzuki being turned into children. And being smacked around by the Gushoushin. Then terrorized by Hakushaku. He didn't particularly want to relive all that.

003 fluttered down from a shelf she had been perched on, landing on his shoulder. She clicked her beak a few times, nibbling at strands of his hair. She liked to preen her human, as he never seemed to do it himself. What she didn't understand, however, was that humans - shinigami - didn't groom themselves by running their hair through their teeth, as birds ran their feathers through their beaks. So, she believed she was doing him a favor by doing it for him. Watari found this behavior quite charming.

"It's too bad you can't talk, sweetie," he sighed, scratching her back between her wings. He smiled as she nipped playfully at his fingers. "'Cause then, _you'd_ be able to tell me how the female mind works."

The little owlet stretched her wings, arching them up over her body.

Watari sat up straighter as the sound of a ringing telephone reached his ears. The phone mounted near the door of his lab had just rung three times in quick succession, indicating that the call was coming from within Enmachou's phone system. Someone in the building was trying to reach him.

"Ah, what is it _this_ time?" he muttered in mock irritation, standing up from his desk and going over to the phone, 003 still perched on his shoulder.

"Watari-san?"

"Tatsumi?" The scientist leaned against the wall next to the phone. "Whatcha need?"

"You need to come to the infirmary right away," the secretary replied, and Watari detected an underlying anxiety in his voice. "Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-kun need to be tended to immediately."

_Uh-oh..._

"Okay, I'll be right there."

The bespectacled engineer sighed, exiting the lab and heading toward the infirmary. It seemed that Tsuzuki and the kid had come back from an assignment broken and bleeding again. Honestly, if those two weren't more careful, they were going to suffer permanent damage one of these days.

He stopped short when he entered the infirmary, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "Holy..."

Tsuzuki was half-sitting, half-lying on one of the beds, his clothes ripped to shreds and stained heavily with blood. His shirt was hanging by the sleeves, falling away from his torso to reveal a nasty-looking scar slicing across his entire body. Several smaller cuts slashed across his chest and face, none of which seeming to want to close anytime soon.

Hisoka was sitting on the next bed over, looking like nothing so much as a pincushion. Shards of what looked like wood and bark were sticking out of his skin, thin trails of blood oozing out around the splinters. As Watari watched, the empath pinched one of the slivers between his thumb and forefinger. The boy hissed as he jerked the sliver out, a small gush of blood following it as the wound was suddenly unplugged. In a matter of seconds, the small injury shrank into nothingness, sealing itself shut. All that remained was the blood that had leaked from it while it was open. As the scientist continued to watch, the empath repeated his actions, grasping another large sliver and pulling it out of his skin to allow the injury to heal. It wasn't until Hisoka dropped it to the bed that Watari realized there were several bloody shards already littering the mattress in front of the empath. Apparently, he had been ripping the wooden needles from his skin for a while before Watari had come in.

"Ah, Watari-san," Tatsumi said, standing up from a chair near the door. "I'm glad you got here so fast. Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-kun had a...a bit of a run-in."

"I see that," Watari nodded, still watching Hisoka extract the wooden shards. "What happened here, anyway?"

"Tsuzuki-san has apparently been stricken with an enchantment that inhibits a shinigami's healing powers," Tatsumi explained. "According to Kurosaki-kun, he was almost sliced in half. Kurosaki-kun has managed to heal the largest of his wounds, but he needs something to counteract the curse and allow his own healing abilities to finish repairing his body." The kagetsukai looked over at the youngest shinigami. "As for Kurosaki-kun, he says that a tree was exploded right in his face. That would explain the splinters he has all over himself."

Watari nodded. "Thanks for the assessment, Tatsumi. Makes it easier to get started." He smiled at his friend. "You can leave the rest to me."

"Thank you, Watari-san," the secretary said, faintly returning the smile. The long-haired shinigami could easily see apprehension in Tatsumi's sapphire eyes. It must have been quite a shock for Tsuzuki and Hisoka to return to Enmachou in such a state, and Watari could tell that Tatsumi was deeply worried for them. As professional and impersonal as he generally acted while in the office, Tatsumi Seiichirou could be quite an emotional man. He cared very much for those dear to him, and seeing them suffering so much must have hit the secretary hard.

After shooing Tatsumi from the infirmary, chiding him that he must have work to do while Watari tended to their companions, the scientist turned to the two shinigami on the beds, again studying their demeanors.

Tsuzuki's eyes were closed, his face pinched in discomfort. His breath was quick and shallow, indicating that he was in a great deal of pain. Blood dripped off his body to stain the bedclothes, and Watari grimaced at the sheer amount of it. The damage he had endured today had been massive indeed. In the next bed, Hisoka was still methodically pulling splinters from his person, dropping the wooden shards to the bed and letting the wounds close themselves. He was in a much less serious condition than Tsuzuki, and the scientist figured the most he would need once the slivers were out was a good dose of painkillers.

Watari walked over to Tsuzuki's side. "Lay back," he said, gently pushing on one of his friend's shoulders. "You need to relax." When Tsuzuki did so, Watari adjusted his glasses and bent over his mutilated belly, scrutinizing the sealed-together edges of the worst of the gashes. It looked like a newly-healed surgical incision after the stitches had been removed, and had Tsuzuki been a mortal human, he would either have died or be on his way to having a very noticeable scar.

"You did a really good job for a beginner, Bon," Watari smiled. "I've heard how proud your teacher is of your progress, and now I can see why."

Hisoka jumped, startled by Watari's voice. A blush crossed his cheeks. "You really think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's obvious where the wound was, but it takes years to get to the point where you can repair an injury this big without even leaving a scar. You did good, especially considering the fact that you were injured, too."

The empath lowered his head, his hair covering his eyes. "Th-thanks. It really hurt Tsuzuki, though. I'm not good enough yet to take the pain away and heal the wound at the same time."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Watari dismissed, waving a hand. "That skill will come in time. I hear you have a vast amount of raw potential, and I'm banking on you becoming the best damn healer Meifu has seen in a _long_ time once you come into your full power. Ne, Tsuzuki?"

Tsuzuki cracked an eye open. "Yeah," he whispered hoarsely, a thin smile crossing his face.

Hisoka dropped his head further, the blush intensifying.

"Anyway," the scientist continued, pretending not to notice Hisoka's embarrassment, "lucky for you, I already have a countercurse in the drug cabinet designed to fight anti-healing afflictions. You don't have to wait for me to mix one up for you." As he said this, he opened said cabinet, pulling out two drug vials, a bottle of what looked like cough syrup, and another bottle of small blue pills. Retrieving a single-use syringe from a nearby drawer and dropping all but the pill bottle into a coat pocket, he closed the cabinet and went back over to his two injured friends.

"Here you go, Bon," he said, shaking two of the pills into his palm and handing them to Hisoka, fetching him a cup of water a moment later. "They're just some painkillers," he explained when Hisoka gave him a questioning look. "You look like you need them."

Hisoka drained the cup of water, swallowing the pills. "Thanks, Watari-san."

"No problem," Watari smiled. As Hisoka resumed extracting the wooden splinters from himself - Watari thought several of them looked like oversized toothpicks - he turned to the more injured of the two. He pulled the two vials and the syringe from his pocket, popping the syringe out of its sterile casing. "How ya feelin', Tsuzuki?"

"I've been better," the older shinigami replied, his voice reedy with pain. "I'd be even worse if Hisoka hadn't healed the worst of it before we came here, though."

"I see that," Watari said, his smile stretching into a grin. "You'd be bleeding all over the floor if Bon hadn't done some work on you. I don't think the cleaning crew would appreciate that." He sucked the contents of one vial, a sterile diluent, into the syringe chamber, then injected it into the other vial, gently shaking it to mix the diluent and the dehydrated drug together.

Tsuzuki managed a short laugh. "Yeah, I don't think so either." He opened his eyes again when he felt Watari's thumb press down just above his inner elbow, causing the vein that ran through it to raise up slightly and stand out. With practiced ease, he slid the needle into the vein, slowly injecting the reddish liquid into Tsuzuki's bloodstream.

"Is that the countercurse?" Tsuzuki asked, watching the drug disappear into his arm.

"No," Watari shook his head, pulling the needle out and pressing down on the injection site, stemming any bleeding that might occur. "This is the most powerful pain reliever we have. It'll make you drowsy, or maybe even put you to sleep, but I figure you'd prefer that to waiting for the countercurse to restore your healing abilities." Tossing the empty vials and syringe into a sharps container, he pulled the last bottle from his pocket, retrieving a small dosage cup from a nearby cabinet and pouring a viscous, neon-pink liquid into it. He capped the bottle again and handed the cup to Tsuzuki. "This is the countercurse."

Tsuzuki took the cup, looking down balefully at the thick, garishly-colored fluid it contained. "Oh gods, I _hate_ liquid medicine," he groaned.

"Sorry," Watari said, giving him a sympathetic smile. "It's the only form of that countercurse that we have. We haven't been able to develop it into a safe injectable yet."

With a sigh, Tsuzuki held his breath and threw the medicine back, downing the liquid in one gulp. He immediately hunched forward, dropping the cup and clapping his hands over his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut. His body heaved a few times, sweat beading on his temples as tears began to glitter in his lashes. He looked about ready to vomit.

"Yeah, I know it tastes awful," Watari said, rubbing Tsuzuki's upper back comfortingly. "I've never liked liquid medicine, myself." He returned to the sink and filled a cup of water for the convulsing shinigami.

"Gods, that's the _worst_ thing I've ever tasted," Tsuzuki managed to rasp, gulping the proffered water down. He sighed in relief. There was a bitter taste lingering in his mouth and throat, but at least it was tolerable now. He still felt decidedly nauseated, though.

"Can't be worse than your cooking," Hisoka muttered.

"You're mean, Hisoka," Tsuzuki pouted.

Watari laughed, glad the two of them were feeling well enough to bicker. "Just lay back and relax, Tsuzuki," he said, a grin still stretching his lips. "You can clean up later when you're stronger. Right now, you just have to rest up and let the countercurse do its thing."

"Hai, Sensei," Tsuzuki replied, facetiously addressing Watari as if he were his physician rather than his friend. He slowly eased himself down into a lying position again, settling his head into the pillow. After some maneuvering, he managed to pull the blanket out from under him and lay it over himself. With a sigh, he relaxed, threading his fingers together across his chest. "Sleepy..."

Watari gave Tsuzuki another smile before turning to the younger shinigami. Hisoka was still plucking the wooden splinters from his flesh, though it looked like he still had a couple dozen or so to go. The empath had been punched so full of holes that Watari had the bizarre mental image of the boy drinking a glass of water and then having it leak out of the numerous wounds, like a cartoon character. Fishing around in the many pockets of his lab coat, he found a sizeable pair of tweezers. He held the tweezers up, letting Hisoka see what he had.

"What say I help you get those things out, ne?"

* * *

Hisoka let out a frustrated sigh, flipping the file folder closed and leaning back against the headboard. It had been close to an hour since he and Watari had pulled the last of the splinters out, and his skin was once again smooth and unblemished. He had cleaned up in the small shower room that branched off of the infirmary, washing the blood off and letting the warm water soothe the lingering aches he still felt in his body. Since his clothes were ripped in several places, not to mention stiff and flaky with dried blood, he had redressed in clean hospital scrubs. He was now sitting up in bed with a lap desk in front of him, several file folders stacked on it. He had filled out and turned in the paperwork closing the case they had just wrapped up, and after that had retrieved the files he was currently staring at from his and Tsuzuki's desk.

The stack of files was those of the victims of the serial killer, or killers, who had become active soon after Hisoka and Tsuzuki returned to field assignments after the Kyoto incident. It had been almost six months since Saya and Yuma had informed them that they weren't the only shinigami on the case - about three since Hisoka had confronted his father in Kamakura - and they _still_ weren't any closer to solving it. Hisoka had accosted the shinigami posted in the other districts the killings had taken place in, angrily demanding why no one told them they weren't alone in the investigation. All he had gotten in reply was avoidance and muttered excuses, pushing the empath to the verge of an aneurism. However, he had been successful in getting the files of the seven victims killed outside Kyushu, which now lay in the stack of folders in front of him.

Curiously enough, once Tsuzuki and Hisoka became aware of the incidents in other territories, there had been no further occurrences related to the case found outside of their jurisdiction. Granted, there wasn't much of a common theme among the killings to really connect them, save for the fact that they had found no indication whatsoever of the identity of the killer at any of the crime scenes. All other unexplained deaths that had come to their attention had been eventually solved, as the perpetrators in those cases hadn't been so careful to cover their tracks. The person or people responsible for the string of unsolved murders were the only ones thorough enough to escape detection.

The frequency of the incidents had slowed way down as well. A month into the investigation, when Saya and Yuma had dropped the bomb that similar murders had happened in other territories, there had already been thirteen victims, six in Kyushu and a total of seven in surrounding areas. Now, seven months since the case first opened, the body count was up to twenty-two. They had gone from thirteen in a single month to nine in a span of six months.

_The killer is now operating entirely in my and Tsuzuki's territory_, Hisoka summarized to himself, _and he seems to have refined his attack pattern for one reason or another._ The period of time between each victim's disappearance and the discovery of their ravaged corpse had considerably lengthened. The killer was holding them prisoner for much longer, as if he was taking pleasure in focusing on one victim for a long time rather than several in quick succession. Quality over quantity, Hisoka supposed.

He leaned his elbows on the lap desk, meshing his fingers together and pressing the bridge of his nose to them. His eyes had darkened slightly. Even though indications of sexual assault had been found in only some of the victims from that first month, every single one found since then, whether male or female, had been raped and sexually tortured. The killer was getting bolder and crueler, as if taunting their inability to identify him. The lingering traces of magic and curses were more noticeable, and Hisoka was frustrated almost to insanity with the familiarity of what he detected on the victims. He _knew_ what kind of magic those traces represented, he was sure of it. He just couldn't place it. It was absolutely maddening.

_It's as if the killer or killers know that we know about their activities outside of our area_, the empath thought, brooding. The delineation between that first month and the other six was very pronounced. Hisoka had the unshakeable feeling that whoever was responsible knew exactly what they were thinking, without them even being aware of his illicit knowledge.

The young man stiffened up, green eyes growing wide. Images of silver hair and mismatched irises had thrown themselves before his mind's eye, and he had the sudden urge to wretch. His murderer's mocking, predatory smile was painfully clear, and he shuddered as he felt rough hands grope over his body.

"Muraki," he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to shove the sickening memories away. _I'm _not_ going to assume it's him! I'm _not_ going to get paranoid like this!_ He cringed away from the suggestion that his worst enemy was involved in this. Just the thought of Muraki preying upon innocent people yet again was enough to drive him nearly mad with hate and - he grudgingly admitted it - fear. Only when they found hard evidence that his murderer was the one responsible for these homicides would Hisoka even consider viewing him as a suspect. The way things were going, however, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

The empath swore under his breath, his palms pressing together and falling to the lap desk with a muffled thump. He looked to his left and beheld his partner lying on his back, his face serene. Watari had explained that the countercurse would take anywhere from one to three hours to fully take effect, and in the meantime Tsuzuki had succumbed to the drowsiness brought on by the pain medication. He was in a light sleep, his emotions muted.

Judging by his appearance, Hisoka figured he would be fully recovered sooner rather than later. The lacerations on his face and chest were little more than faint pink lines now. Hisoka couldn't see it, as Tsuzuki's abdomen was currently covered with a blanket, but he knew the mark left after his barely-adequate healing job would be fading as well, Tsuzuki's potent regeneration powers furthering the repairs until his body was the same as before he had been injured.

Hisoka sighed shakily, pressing his hands to his eyes.

"Please be wrong about this, Tsuzuki," he whispered, referring to his partner's continuing suspicion that Muraki was behind the murders. "I don't think I could stand it if you're right."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Jeez. I keep worrying if my plans for a chapter will result in a really short post, but then they turn out to be really long without having to tweak anything. I have this knack for severely underestimating how much space a scene will take up, I guess. Oh well. It's better than my chapters turning out shorter than expected, ne?

Those of you who read what I had posted of "Wounded Souls" may recognize many of the elements in this chapter. The last two installments of that fic dealt with Tsuzuki being severely injured and hit with an anti-healing curse, as well as Hisoka's resulting hysteria. I toned down Hisoka's reaction considerably in this rewrite, as he is now a budding healer and didn't feel so completely helpless. Plus I think I overdid it a little bit in the original version. Blarg.

Anyway, please leave a review if you have anything to say. I do so love receiving feedback for my writings, even if it isn't very positive. If you're gonna be negative, however, do so tactfully. Flames are just a waste of my time and yours.


	13. Synchronized

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Many thanks to Koshi Sekisen, EggDropSoup, Serene Ice Dragon, mooopower, spiritmind675, EchizenRyomaLover, walkerminion, Juu, rikkivu, and -w- easy enough for reading and reviewing chapter twelve! It's taken me longer than I wanted to get this chapter out, but I hope you can forgive me. Real life eats my time up like nobody's business sometimes.

I want to acknowledge two more mistakes that have come to my attention while flipping through the manga. The first is how I've had Hisoka address his family members. I've had him using the suffix "-san" when he should have been using "-sama." I figured he would use "-sama," as he's from an aristocratic family. But, for some unknown reason, I had him use "-san" anyway. I r dum. The other is from way back in the first chapter, when Tsuzuki and Hisoka talk in the sakura garden. I had written it as if it were daytime, when it was supposed to be at night. I mean, they're looking up at the (GIANT) moon, fer crissake. Durrr...

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Thirteen: Synchronized**

Tsuzuki stretched his arms up above his head as he exited the office building, squeezing his eyes shut in a yawn. He had just had his ear chewed off, having been called into Konoe's office by Tatsumi for a discussion about his expenses while on assignment. By "discussion," Tatsumi had meant "lecture." As usual, Tsuzuki's meal expenses had failed to stay within budget, and the secretary was none too pleased with the violet-eyed shinigami. Tsuzuki had endured the tongue-lashing in silence, and now he was finally free. He knew he had to curb his spending, but it was just so hard sometimes!

Hisoka had left a little early, as work had been completed ahead of schedule - no thanks to Tsuzuki, the empath had sniped - and he had gone to his teacher's for the afternoon's lesson.

Looking up at the sky, he figured it wasn't too late yet, as the sun was still rather high in its trajectory. He had nothing specific planned for this afternoon, and he had been wondering lately about Hisoka's progress in his training, so he opted to go to his teacher's rather than go home. He had sat in on a few of Hisoka's lessons before, and found it rather pleasing to watch the boy grow as a healer and exorcist. He felt oddly like a father watching his son come into his own, and he couldn't deny how proud he was of Hisoka for persevering, not to mention excelling, as difficult as the training could be.

_I hope they don't mind my presence today_, he thought, fazing out of existence at the Enmachou compound and back in again in front of Hisoka's teacher's house. There had been a few times he had come to watch that either Hisoka or his teacher (or both) requested that he in fact leave. Whether it was a particularly difficult lesson where Hisoka didn't want the distraction of his partner's presence, or some other reason, Tsuzuki had respected their wishes and made himself scarce. On the other hand, he knew there were times when Hisoka appreciated his being there, as sensing his support and pride in the younger shinigami was a great encouragement. Tsuzuki hoped today it would be the latter.

Crossing the gardens at the front of the property, he reached out with his mind. Though not nearly as powerful as Hisoka's empathy, as a shinigami Tsuzuki could sense the presence of his peers within a certain distance. Hisoka had showed him how to extend that awareness past his natural ability, and he could now pinpoint the location of other shinigami over a fairly substantial radius.

Sure enough, he sensed Hisoka at the back of the house, as well as his teacher. Though she was not a shinigami, she had a similar spiritual signature, being a resident of Meifu.

He found a path that went around the house to the gardens behind, listening for the two of them. He could hear nothing but the gurgling fountain that sat near the back porch, as well as the singing of the birds that nested in the plum trees. This piqued Tsuzuki's interest. What type of lesson would require total silence?

Rounding the back corner of the house, he spied the woman's colorful haori partially hidden by a perfectly-trimmed azalea bush. She appeared to be sitting on the ground, and there was no sign of Hisoka from Tsuzuki's vantage point. He must have been hidden around the bend that partially concealed his teacher.

"Oi, Sakihana-sensei!" he called, jogging down the stone path. He didn't shout, but he did speak loud enough to make himself heard.

Sakihana Kiyoko turned, seeking out the source of the noise. Her eyes fell on Tsuzuki, and she quickly raised a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. Tsuzuki stopped short, embarrassed. Though Sakihana didn't seem angry, the urgency of her gesture indicated he could very easily have shattered the carefully maintained silence. He cautiously crossed the remaining distance between them, keeping his noise to a minimum, his eyes peeled for Hisoka.

The boy's slight frame slowly came into view as Tsuzuki rounded the bushes. He was sitting cross-legged on a large, flat stone, dressed in a plain white yukata. Back straight and eyes closed, a hand rested on each knee, his bearing completely relaxed. Hisoka's expression was serene, his breathing slow and even.

He was deep in meditation.

"Should I leave?" Tsuzuki asked quietly, barely above a whisper.

"No," Sakihana shook her head, her voice just as quiet. "You may stay if you wish. Just try not to make any noise. I wouldn't want Kurosaki-kun to be disturbed."

Tsuzuki nodded, sitting down beside the elegantly-dressed woman. "Why is he meditating?"

"Meditation is an integral part of a healer's training," Sakihana explained. "Kurosaki-kun especially needs it. A necessary step in healing is to synchronize your mind with that of the injured party, so you are aware of just what needs to be repaired. Kurosaki-kun is an empath, so opening his mind to another person's is potentially dangerous. He is already sensitive to others' mental states, and in synchronizing with someone he may expose himself too much and leave himself open to harm. I have him meditate in order to balance himself and strengthen his mental shields, so he may synchronize with others without making himself vulnerable."

Tsuzuki nodded again. "He's often used the word 'synchronize' to describe a mental connection. His empathy allows him to feel others' emotions as strongly as if they were his own, his feelings more or less falling into step with those of the other person. He doesn't make it sound like a pleasant experience, either."

"Yes," Sakihana concurred. "That is why I have him on a meditation regimen. He must gain tight control of his empathy so he can analyze a person's injuries without injuring himself in the process. It may also benefit him in his day-to-day life by giving him greater defenses against the emotions of those around him. He has told me that sometimes being near someone who is experiencing strong emotions is enough to cause him a great deal of pain. Having greater control over his empathy could help him avoid such an overload in the future."

"That's good," Tsuzuki said. "I've seen him when he's become overwhelmed by his empathy. It's...it's a terrible thing to witness."

Sakihana made a small sound of agreement, watching her young student. Neither spoke for a long moment, the only noise being the fountain near the house, as well as the birds in the trees. Hisoka was breathing deeply, yet slowly enough that it could barely be heard.

"How's he doing, by the way?" Tsuzuki asked at length. "In his training, I mean. He's been taking instruction from you for about a year now, right?"

Sakihana nodded. "He is doing very well. He is noticeably beyond the point most students are a year into their training. I daresay he is one of the most promising students I have ever had. He is going to be very powerful once he comes into his full strength. He has struggled at times, but every student does. Each obstacle he has encountered has eventually been overcome. I am very proud of his progress."

"So am I," Tsuzuki smiled. "He had been so frustrated when he was trying to learn the type of magic I specialize in. It's great to see how much happier and comfortable he is in learning healing and exorcism instead. I'm glad my observations proved correct."

"Oh?" Sakihana asked, turning to look at him.

"Soon before he started his training under you," Tsuzuki explained, "I sat him down and told him I really didn't think he was suited for fuda magic, and considering his strong empathy, I figured that healing and exorcism would be a much more fitting field for him to study. I'm glad he took my advice."

"I see," Sakihana said. "Then I should thank you, Tsuzuki-san. It has been a pleasure to train such a gifted young man."

Tsuzuki smiled again.

"His training in the healing arts has so far been confined to repairing physical wounds and illnesses," Sakihana went on. "Even for a prodigy like Kurosaki-kun, psychological healing is still a little ways off." She reached up to brush an errant strand of hair out of her face. "To be honest, even the most powerful healers can only do so much for wounds inflicted upon the mind and soul. Physical injuries can be repaired completely, but spiritual and psychological injuries, not so much. We can take the edge off of trauma, as well as lessen the long-term effects that trauma causes, but we can't close a mental wound to nearly the same extent as a physical wound. Coming to terms with emotional scars and what caused them is ultimately up to the injured person, and true insanity cannot be cured. We can calm a person's madness, but there is nothing we can do to make them truly sane again."

Tsuzuki gave a wry smile. "I guess it would just be too easy if you could go to a healer and have all your problems solved at once, huh?"

Sakihana laughed softly. "As they say, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is."

The veteran shinigami leaned back, supported by his hands on the ground behind him. "Well, regardless of what's doable and what's not, I'm betting Hisoka will stretch those limits as far as he possibly can."

"It's very possible, yes," the woman nodded. "I have great expectations for Kurosaki-kun."

The three of them sat in silence again for a while, Hisoka giving no sign that he was aware of them at all. Tsuzuki smiled at the sight. It was so nice to see the boy completely relaxed. He had enough stress and strife in his life, and seeing him in total peacefulness was quite a treat for his older partner.

"Well," Tsuzuki sighed after a while, "I should probably get going. I'm not much use here."

Sakihana smiled. "Getting bored?"

Tsuzuki chuckled as he got to his feet. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Do not let me keep you, then. You are here entirely by your own choice, after all."

"Yeah." Tsuzuki brushed himself off, pulling his overcoat more firmly onto his shoulders. "Tell Hisoka I said hi, okay?"

"Of course." Sakihana gave him another smile. "I am sure he will be glad to hear you came to see how he is doing."

"I hope so," Tsuzuki said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He can just as easily be annoyed with me being here as he can be happy about it." He brought his hand up and executed a quick salute. "Bye now."

"Goodbye, Tsuzuki-san," he heard her say as he fazed out of the garden.

_Just keep on doing what you're doing, Hisoka_, he thought as he reappeared in front of his apartment building. _I'm so proud of you._

* * *

Hisoka sighed, closing his eyes as he did so. He was lying on his front on top of a large, sloped boulder, his chin resting on his crossed arms. He was facing west, watching the sun sink down toward the Nagasaki skyline. The boulder was still warm from the day's sunshine, and a soft breeze blew, playing with Hisoka's hair. The nice weather, pretty sunset, and the scarcity of people around him all added up to a very relaxed, contented shinigami.

Scratch that. Hisoka was relaxed, yes, but contented? Not so much. He had been steadily growing more restless over the past week or so, the odd feeling of having something important to do gnawing at his consciousness. At first, he hadn't known what he had to do that was so urgent, but he had recently come to realize - with no small amount of nervousness - what it was. And yet, he still hadn't carried it out. The sense of urgency hadn't gone down, so that wasn't the problem. It was the fact that just the thought of doing this thing was rather frightening.

Sighing again, he ran a hand through his hair, moving his bangs out of his face. His hair needed a trim. Having his bangs constantly in his eyes was getting annoying.

_I need to do this_, he thought for perhaps the thousandth time, staring at the reddening skyline. _Putting it off won't make it any easier..._

"There you are," a familiar voice said behind him and to his right. A split second before, he had felt Tsuzuki enter the living world. There was a smile in his partner's voice, and Hisoka could see in his mind's eye the affectionate expression on Tsuzuki's face.

Hisoka felt his stomach roll, though it wasn't from anything he was sensing or hearing from Tsuzuki. It was the fact that Tsuzuki himself was the focal point of the thing he felt he needed to do.

"Here I am," he answered, keeping his voice neutral. "How'd you find me?"

"Well, you said that this park looked like a nice place to relax when we passed through here earlier today," Tsuzuki explained. "You weren't in Meifu, as far as I could tell, so I thought maybe you had come here to test your little theory."

"How perceptive," Hisoka said, a cool smirk in his voice. "Is our Tsuzuki-san growing a sense of intuition?"

"Hey, be nice," Tsuzuki pouted, though Hisoka sensed he wasn't really offended by the remark. He pretty much took Hisoka's sarcasm in stride now, knowing that it was just part of the way the boy communicated.

Hisoka shrugged, resting his chin on his arms again and closing his eyes. He jolted a bit when he felt Tsuzuki take a few strands of his hair between his fingers, his eyes popping back open.

"You're getting a little shaggy, Hisoka," the man chided, a warm smile on his face. "You're due for a haircut."

"Yeah," Hisoka concurred. "It's getting annoying having to brush my hair out of my eyes every two seconds. I just haven't gotten around to it, though."

Tsuzuki's smile widened into a grin, and he ruffled Hisoka's hair the same way he would a toddler's. He chuckled at Hisoka's indignant squawk, stepping away as the empath sat up with his hands on his head, as if shielding his hair from any further disturbance. He had to force down a laugh at the sight of Hisoka's scowl. He was _so_ cute when he was miffed.

"Aw, you should try the 'mussed' look, Hisoka!" he teased. "I hear that's what's 'in' nowadays."

"Thanks, but no," Hisoka snorted, smoothing his hair down again. "I'd rather _not_ look like I didn't know what a hairbrush is."

Tsuzuki chuckled again, turning his eyes to the west. "The sunset's pretty this evening," he commented, changing the subject.

"It is," Hisoka nodded, his annoyance seeming to disappear. "That's part of the reason I came here. I like watching the sunset, and I figured this park would be a good place to do it."

"You do like nature, don't you?"

"Mmhm. She was my only friend growing up, it seems like." _'__Seems like,' nothing. She _was_ your only friend growing up._

"That's...really sad," Tsuzuki said, a small frown on his face.

Hisoka shrugged again. "Par for the course for me."

"Yeah," his partner said softly. "Me, too."

Silence fell over the two of them, their gazes trained on the shades of red, pink, and orange that lit up the sky as the sun sank behind the distant buildings. If they looked the other way, they would see the eastern horizon gradually darkening, a star or two already twinkling in the sky.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka finally said, feeling a familiar sense of _must do this_ throbbing in his chest and gut. "I've been...thinking a lot lately."

"I suspected as much," Tsuzuki nodded. "You have seemed a little preoccupied."

"Damn, have I been _that_ obvious?" the empath muttered, reaching up to tuck some hair behind an ear.

"Hm? What was that?" Tsuzuki looked over at the boy, having heard him speak but unable to decipher the words.

"Nothing," Hisoka said, shaking his head.

"Ah."

Again, silence reigned.

Hisoka lay back down on the boulder, this time propping himself up on his elbows. "It's been a year already," he said softly, gazing at the sunset with something akin to sadness in his vibrant eyes.

"What, since we returned to field assignments after Kyoto?"

"Mmhm," Hisoka nodded. "That means it's also been a year since...since that conversation in the conference room."

Tsuzuki didn't answer to that. The empath sensed a burning apprehension at the mention of that particular talk, however.

"A year...almost exactly to the day," the boy murmured, almost whispering.

"Heh...time flies when you're having fun, ne?" Tsuzuki smiled, though his partner didn't sense any mirth to go along with the expression.

"Don't give me that," Hisoka countered, though there was no malice in his voice. "It's been a long year for you. It has for me, too."

Again, Tsuzuki didn't respond. The apprehension radiating from him was gradually mixing with a powerful yearning.

Hisoka looked to the side, his eyes lidded. "I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate you honoring your promise to give me space. I'm truly grateful for your restraint. You know how touchy this subject is for me."

Tsuzuki breathed a shaky sigh, dropping his head. "It...it _has_ been a long year for me, you're right. I know I made the right decision in keeping my distance. I can't even fathom pushing anything upon you that you don't want. But I can't...I can't lie and say it hasn't been a struggle for me at times."

The younger shinigami turned his gaze to his partner. If Tsuzuki, who was mostly facing away from the boy, had looked into Hisoka's eyes at that moment, he would have seen an odd mixture of longing and nervousness.

"I want you, Hisoka," Tsuzuki continued, his voice thin. "I want all of you. Not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well. And I want to give myself to you just as completely. Gods, I just can't find the words to describe how much you mean to me." He breathed in and out carefully, as if trying to keep his voice steady. "I would die a second death before I forced you into anything. You know that. But it's so hard holding myself back sometimes. It's _so hard_..."

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said softly. He didn't know what else to say. Tsuzuki's powerful love and desire were thrumming through his mind, and he felt his own emotions responding in kind. Breathing slowly, he held tight to his usual restraint. It wouldn't do for _both_ of them to lose their composure, if that's where Tsuzuki was heading.

"I love you," his older partner said almost in a sob, and he saw Tsuzuki lift a hand to his face as if to wipe away tears. "I love you and I want you and I _need_ you. You mean everything to me. _Everything_..."

Hisoka sat up on his knees, still staring at Tsuzuki's back. The hesitation in his eyes had given way to solid determination. _Do it now!_ his mind urged him over and over, gradually getting louder with each repetition.

Wordlessly, he half slid, half hopped off the boulder, making very little sound as his feet hit the ground. He crossed the short distance between him and his partner, his determination bestowing an unexpected but blessed calm upon him as he prepared to speak.

"I-I'm sorry, Hisoka," Tsuzuki sniffed, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "I didn't mean to lose control like this. I shouldn't burden you with my feelings. I-I'll leave now."

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka whispered, gently laying a hand on the center of Tsuzuki's back. He felt his partner jolt, surprised by the contact and Hisoka's close proximity. His breath caught in his throat at the touch, and Hisoka felt a surge of love and loneliness as his empathy deepened. Closing his eyes, he took another step forward, wrapping his arms around Tsuzuki's waist and pressing their bodies together.

"H-Hisoka...?" Tsuzuki breathed. Hope and fear were swirling freely within him, making Hisoka tremble in its intensity. The boy felt the older man's hands lay over his own, his palms warming Hisoka's anxiety-cooled skin.

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki," Hisoka murmured, resting his head on Tsuzuki's shoulder blade.

"Hisoka?"

"I've made you wait for too long," the empath explained, closing his eyes. "You've suffered so much for so long, all because you don't want to hurt me. I...I can't even begin to describe how much I am in your debt for that."

"You don't owe me anything," Tsuzuki countered. "It wasn't just to keep you from harm; it was my choice, as well. I could never live with myself if I forced you into anything. I just...I-I just couldn't stand doing _anything_ that would remind you of Muraki-"

"You're _not Muraki!_" Hisoka cut in, the words coming out more forcefully than he intended. He had unconsciously squeezed Tsuzuki's waist in his outburst, effectively startling the older man into silence. Taking a few deep breaths, Hisoka brought himself under control again. "You could never remind me of Muraki, Tsuzuki. You're too kind, too selfless. You truly love me, and all Muraki cares about is possessing and controlling." He pressed his forehead to the middle of Tsuzuki's back, feeling the faint ridge of his backbone. "Never, Tsuzuki. You and Muraki will _never_ remind me of each other. I swear you that."

"Hisoka..." Tsuzuki sighed again, closing his eyes. He brought one of Hisoka's hands up to his lips, placing a tender kiss upon it. He felt a slight shiver run through Hisoka at the brush of his lips, and he smiled softly.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said quietly. "I...I think I'm ready...to love you."

Tsuzuki drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. He gently disengaged Hisoka's arms from his waist, turning around to face his partner. Hisoka embraced him again, but Tsuzuki took hold of his chin, maintaining eye contact.

"Are you sure of this, Hisoka?" he asked, conflicting emotions surging through him. "Please, _don't_ say that if you aren't. It would kill me if I found out you accepted me just to make me feel better."

"I'm sure," the empath nodded. "I've been waiting so long to feel 'ready,' but if I wait to feel 'ready,' I'll be waiting forever. I think...I think I have to open myself to you first. I won't be able to feel comfortable with this until I actually experience it." He closed his eyes, taking a measured breath. "I have to face my fears, not run from them."

Tsuzuki let go of his chin and settled his hands on the boy's narrow shoulders. He pressed their foreheads together, also closing his eyes. "I'd rather die than force you-"

"You're not forcing me, Tsuzuki," Hisoka interrupted, opening his eyes again and placing a hand on the taller man's cheek. "It was your choice not to push me. Now it's my choice to push myself."

"Hisoka..."

The younger shinigami placed a finger on Tsuzuki's lips, signaling him to stop speaking. Amethyst eyes cracked open, gazing warmly into emerald. The love he saw there flooded his mind, but instead of shying away, he pressed closer, letting the sensations move freely through him. Leaning up, he removed his hand from Tsuzuki's lips and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Tsuzuki let out a shuddering sigh, and before he knew what he was doing, he had gripped Hisoka gently by the nape, turning his head just slightly and sliding their lips together. Hisoka gasped in surprise, but didn't pull away, letting his partner kiss him. His eyes fluttered shut again, and he could feel more than hear a soft purring noise vibrating in his throat. The tentative kiss Tsuzuki had placed on his forehead all those months ago had shocked him, but this...this was something else altogether. It wasn't the biting charade of affection forced upon him by Muraki, nor was it the hopeful yet ultimately futile caress offered him by Tsubaki-hime. This was the gentle touch of unselfish adoration, pure and simple. His chest grew tight as Tsuzuki's feelings nearly overwhelmed his own, a sudden urge to weep overtaking him.

After a long moment, Tsuzuki pulled away. The kiss had been chaste, the older man only bringing their lips into play. Tongue and teeth were still far too intimate at this stage. Hisoka still for the most part associated sex and sensuality with trauma and pain, and going too far too fast could damage the boy in ways Tsuzuki shuddered to think about. It was his every intention to take things as slowly as Hisoka needed to. He saw the empath unconsciously lick his lips, as if seeking more of his taste, and he smiled. Hisoka was completely new to anything resembling romance, and was mainly acting on instinct. It was cute.

"I love you, Tsuzuki," Hisoka said after finding his voice again. The intensity of Tsuzuki's feelings had nearly made him dizzy. "I've loved you for so long...I just couldn't find the courage to get close to you."

"Shhh," Tsuzuki soothed, stroking the boy's silken hair. "It's okay. I understand completely."

Hisoka lowered his head, hiding his face against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "I...I'm still afraid. Inside, I'm still terrified. Please...take this slow, Tsuzuki. D-don't rush me into anything."

"Yes," Tsuzuki murmured, pressing a light kiss to Hisoka's head and inhaling the delicate scent of the boy's hair. "We'll take this at your pace, Hisoka. Nothing until you're ready for it. I'll tear my own heart out before I make you do anything you don't want to do."

Hisoka sighed as if he had been holding his breath, his shoulders noticeably dropping. "Thank you, Tsuzuki."

"Anything for you, love," the older man smiled.

"Love..." the empath repeated, as if mulling over the meaning of that tiny but oh-so-powerful word. He tightened his grip on Tsuzuki, pressing his face to his partner's chest. "I love you, Tsuzuki...I love you..." His breathing had become shaky, as if he were struggling not to cry.

A tear escaped Tsuzuki's eye and slid down his cheek, his smile brightening. "Hisoka...oh, I've waited _so_ long to hear you say that."

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki-"

Tsuzuki placed a finger on Hisoka's lips, mirroring the boy's earlier action. "Asato."

"Hm?"

"If we're to love each other, don't call me Tsuzuki," the taller man explained. "It's too impersonal. Call me Asato instead."

"Asato," Hisoka said softly, seeming to taste the word.

"If you don't want to call me that when we're around others, that's fine," Tsuzuki clarified. "But at least while we're alone, I want you to call me by my given name. It makes me feel closer to you."

"Asato..." Hisoka said again, even more quietly. He turned his eyes back up to his partner's, a much-too-rarely-seen smile on his eternally young face. "All right, you got yourself a deal." The smile softened, and he closed his eyes again. "I love you...Asato."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Gaaaaah. It's taken me at least twice as long to get this chapter out than I wanted. I'm really sorry about that, guys. I'll try to do better next time.

So, whatcha think of Hisoka finally accepting Tsuzuki? Good? Bad? Worth the wait or a total disappointment? I hope I didn't overdo the drama. I really hate it when a story, romantic or not, descends into the kind of schmaltzy bullshit no one in their right mind can find credible (coughtwilightcough), and only serves to disguise the fact that the author can't write their way out of a paper bag. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the dialogue in this chapter stays within "dramatic" and doesn't take a flying leap into "melodramatic." Thoughts?

Oh, and before I go, I should say that, after _eight-and-a-half freaking years_, I finally have _Yami no Matsuei_ #12 in my possession. This makes Annie-chan a very happy fangirl. Hisoka gets full-on glomped no less than three times in #12, once by Kotarou, once by Tsuzuki, and once by Suzaku. Needless to say, our little empath was a bit miffed by all the attention. Hee.

Leave a review if you're so inclined, and I hope to see you all again soon with chapter fourteen!


	14. Stargazing

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks a bunch to spiritmind675, -w- easy enough, EggDropSoup, WoodlandBeef, mooopower, Aerith21, LillianeDeMalvrier, m, Riaries, fugu-chan, Juu, Behan, and HARPG0 for reading and reviewing chapter thirteen! I'm so glad you all liked my treatment of Hisoka accepting Tsuzuki's feelings. It's been a long time coming, both in the story and in real time, and reading your reactions to it was ever so gratifying. I love you guys.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Fourteen: Stargazing**

Hisoka shifted, arching his back up and reaching under his body, searching. He had felt something poking into his back, which had only taken a few seconds to become incredibly annoying. Feeling around, he found the small pebble responsible for the irritation and flicked it away, relaxing back down onto the grass.

"Something wrong?" Tsuzuki, who lay a few feet to his left, asked.

"Nothing," Hisoka shrugged, placing his hands behind his head. "I was lying on a rock and it was uncomfortable."

"Mm," Tsuzuki nodded, looking back up at the sky. His fingers were threaded loosely together over his chest, giving him an air of total relaxation.

The two of them were lying in a forest clearing at the roots of Fujisan, watching the moon and stars slowly move overhead. It was cool here, but not unpleasantly so, and the quiet of the woods around them, broken only occasionally by the call of some night bird or an airplane passing overhead, conveyed upon the two shinigami a sense of peace. It was an appropriate finish to their day.

Though it was obvious they loved each other deeply, Tsuzuki had expressed a desire to court Hisoka properly. Hisoka, though surprised, had welcomed the suggestion wholeheartedly. Going through the normal steps to building a relationship was a good way to strengthen the bond they already shared, as well as allowed Hisoka to take in the idea of just _being_ in a relationship in small doses. His feelings for Tsuzuki were genuine, he had no doubt about that, but his hesitancy with romance in general was enough to make the notion of jumping in with both feet in the air rather daunting. Easing into things was a much more inviting route.

_And maybe_, he thought, gazing up at the moon's waning crescent, _I'll be more open to physical love in a shorter time._ He was aware of a deeply-buried desire for his partner, and there could be no mistake of Tsuzuki's want for him, but the thought of any sexual contact was still, understandably, repelling for the empath. Not that he was disgusted by it, but the vivid memory of one night of insomnia leading to the violent tearing away of the last shreds of his innocence rose up threateningly whenever he even thought about becoming intimate with his partner. If they took the relationship one step at a time, rather than jumping into it right away, Hisoka suspected - hoped - that his aversion to intimacy might be conquered with less difficulty. It would take time to determine if his hopes were correct, however.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" Tsuzuki asked after another period of relaxed silence.

"I did," Hisoka nodded, favoring the man with a smile. "I really had a good time today. I should thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," Tsuzuki smiled back, unthreading his fingers and placing his hands behind his head, mirroring Hisoka's position. "I enjoyed today just as much as you did."

"I'm glad to hear that," Hisoka murmured, his voice softening. He turned his emerald eyes back up to the sky, starlight shimmering in his already brilliant irises. His smile had softened as well, but he knew that, had Tsuzuki also been an empath, he would have sensed an all but unheard of giddiness radiating from his young partner. He couldn't remember a time when he had enjoyed himself so thoroughly, and part of him wondered what took him so long to warm up to the older shinigami.

Today, a Saturday, had been their first date. They had met up at the statue of Hachikou in Tokyo's Shibuya district shortly after noon, and had spent the rest of the day in each other's company. Hisoka was unused to spending so much time with his partner while not on the clock at Enmachou, a had a few times caught himself thinking that they had goofed off long enough, and it was time to get back to work. Each time, upon the realization that it was Saturday and they didn't have to work, Hisoka had felt a rush of both incredulity at his own absentmindedness and excitement at the thought of having the rest of the day free with Tsuzuki.

His childlike flightiness today had surprised him, as the attitude was wholly incongruous with his normal demeanor. He supposed it was the newness of the situation coupled with his increasing openness to Tsuzuki's emotions. It was as if Tsuzuki's bubbly character had started rubbing off on him. Thankfully, his ironclad control allowed him to keep this new feeling internal. His pride would not allow him to display such behavior; it would be too embarrassing, especially in front of Tsuzuki. The older shinigami would never let him hear the end of it. Externally, he retained his normal calm appearance, though he didn't make any conscious effort to hide the fact that he was enjoying Tsuzuki's company. He remained the same composed, unruffled Hisoka, but he knew his partner could tell that he was having a good time, regardless of his outward behavior.

_When I first became a shinigami, I didn't even know _how_ to show positive emotions_, he thought, looking over at Tsuzuki. _Just the idea of being happy was foreign to me. Asato's influence has changed me more than he realizes._ That in and of itself was a testament to their bond. Even before either of them realized it, Tsuzuki was helping to heal Hisoka's wounds. He couldn't imagine himself anywhere near as cheerful as the older man, but at least now he didn't feel like his face would break if he attempted to smile.

Tsuzuki had insisted that they first go get Hisoka's hair cut, as the empath still hadn't gotten around to doing so. After an unsuccessful attempt to convince Hisoka to try a new hairstyle, he had taken the boy to a hairdresser located off the main crossing in front of Shibuya Station. Hisoka had commented that Tsuzuki seemed to know his way around the Shibuya Ward, and Tsuzuki had explained that it had been one of Watari's favorite spots to spend his weekends during the first several years of his career as a shinigami, and Tsuzuki often came along for the ride when he himself had nothing planned. The scientist didn't come here quite as often anymore, and therefore neither did Tsuzuki, but it was still one of the first places the two of them went to if they happened to visit Tokyo.

After getting Hisoka's hair trimmed, the two of them went out onto the main thoroughfare in front of the train station, and for the next few hours just wandered aimlessly from place to place. Tsuzuki was the one leading, as he was the one familiar with the area. He had said from the get-go that he was happy for this opportunity to show Hisoka how a young man like him was _supposed_ to spend his free time, whiling away the hours doing whatever pleased him without any cares to spoil the fun. It was something Hisoka had never had the opportunity - or, he thought, the desire - to do before. Once he experienced it, however, he realized how much his formative years had been lacking, and found that he was enjoying himself more than he ever remembered doing so before. Perhaps that had contributed to his uncharacteristic exhilaration, as well.

As the day continued on toward early evening, they had finally gotten around to what they had _planned_ to do on their date, the tried-and-true dinner and a movie. They had gone to the movie first, as neither of them particularly wanted a time limit on the dinner. Plus, it would give them ample opportunity to discuss what they had just seen, if they wanted. They had chosen a fairly successful horror film that was currently playing, and which they had heard good things about. Neither of them expected to be truly frightened by the film, as their line of work had given them plenty of horrific experiences of their own. Ghosts, demons, possessions, curses, mutilations, murder...all in a day's work for a shinigami. A fictional depiction of similar events wasn't likely to scare them very much. However, Hisoka had read in a review that the story was engrossing and thought-provoking, and so he had suggested they go see it for that reason. It was also interesting to see how living humans imagined the dark side of the supernatural, which usually didn't entirely jive with reality. Some inaccuracies were amusing, some mind-boggling, and some were even appalling; you never knew what you would get. This particular movie was more or less on the mark, though it overdid the gothic and satanic symbolism a little too much. All in all, it was an enjoyable film, though it had its share of flaws.

For dinner, Tsuzuki had suggested Anna Miller's, a chain of restaurants Hisoka had heard about but never himself visited. There was one near the movie theater, and so they had gone there. Anmira, as people often called the restaurant, specialized in American dishes, and was famous for its indulgent dessert menu. Tsuzuki had gushed profusely about the decadent pies and cheesecakes that were served there, something that didn't surprise Hisoka in the slightest. Tsuzuki described the restaurant's signature dessert, Boston cream pie, to be a close second to apple pie as his favorite treat, and had insisted that Hisoka try some. After dinner - Tsuzuki ordered spaghetti and meatballs, Hisoka a club sandwich - two slices of Boston cream pie were brought to their table. Hisoka was surprised to find that this layered confection was not a pie but a cake. Regardless of what it was, he agreed with Tsuzuki that it tasted heavenly.

After dinner, they had gone to a nearby park to watch the sky, but the overabundant light in Japan's capital made the stars practically invisible. To remedy this, they had translocated away from the populous city to the forest clothing the lower slopes of Fujisan. There was no city noise here, and the stars were absolutely glorious to behold. This was the perfect place to wind down after a full day.

"I'm looking forward to doing this again sometime," Tsuzuki said at length, catching Hisoka's attention again. Hisoka had fallen into a sort of a trance as he remembered the day's events. He was slightly startled at the sound of Tsuzuki's voice, though the feeling quickly passed.

"I am, too," he replied. He turned on his side, facing the older man. "I really enjoyed myself today, Asato. Not just because of what we did, but because it was with you."

Tsuzuki grinned at him, an affectionate sparkle in his eyes. "Aww, that's sweet, Hisoka."

"I'm serious!" Hisoka insisted, frowning somewhat at Tsuzuki's reply.

"Yeah, I know," Tsuzuki admitted, his expression sobering. His smile softened, though it was no less loving. He sat up, bending his knees and resting his arms on them. "I know that if you say it, you mean it, Hisoka. If I've learned only one thing about you over our partnership, it's that you don't say things like that lightly. It's got to be really important for you to say it out loud." He reached down, brushing a finger against Hisoka's cheek. "I'm so happy to hear you say that, Hisoka."

Hisoka closed his eyes briefly at the light caress, opening them again a moment later as his hand came up to grasp the one stroking his cheek, holding Tsuzuki's hand against his skin as he met the man's brilliant violet eyes.

Tsuzuki felt a particularly sharp pang of affection as their eyes met, and his smile wavered. Gently extracting his hand from Hisoka's, he leaned down and placed a light kiss on the empath's temple. "I love you, Hisoka."

"And I love you," Hisoka whispered back. "Today was very special for me. I'll never forget it."

"You're talking like one of us is going away," Tsuzuki chuckled, giving him another quick peck before sitting up again. "I'll always be wherever you are, and if I get my way, we'll do stuff like we did today as often as we can. If you want to, that is."

"Oh, I'm not adverse to the idea," Hisoka smiled, sitting up as well. "Although, a quiet day together at home would be just as enjoyable, I think."

"That does sound nice," Tsuzuki nodded. "My place or yours?"

"Mm, I don't know. Maybe your place one time and my place the next? Whichever we feel like at the time, I guess."

"Okay. I'd love to spend the day at home with you, Hisoka."

Hisoka looked down at his hands. _At home with you._ That phrase brought to mind images of them in a shared apartment...and in a shared bed. A sudden shiver ran through him. Sharing his bed and his body with Tsuzuki...oh, that prospect was so frightening and so tempting all at once!

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki's voice broke into his reverie. "Are you okay? You suddenly looked distant."

For a moment, Hisoka considered making an excuse for his distraction. After a brief deliberation, however, he figured honesty was called for in this situation.

"I just...suddenly saw us living together...and sleeping together," he said slowly. "You mentioned being 'at home' with me...and it made me think of what the future may hold for us."

"And...does what you see make you happy?" Tsuzuki asked, watching Hisoka closely. He wasn't sure how an unfavorable response would affect him, and he really didn't want to find out.

Hisoka raised his head, meeting Tsuzuki's gaze again. "It does. I want that to happen someday. I want to live with you and..._be_ with you. But I don't know when I'll be ready for..."

"It's okay, Hisoka," Tsuzuki cut in, touching Hisoka's shoulder. "I'm not going to lie and say that I don't want you. I want so much to show you how good it can feel, how it's _supposed_ to be. But only when you want to, only when you're ready." He smiled supportively. "Don't rush yourself, Hisoka. You can't put something like this on a timecard. When you're ready for it, you'll know, and I'll be here for you. Don't worry so much about the future, just enjoy yourself in the now. Things will turn out for the best, I promise you."

"Wow, you're being awfully profound, Asato," Hisoka quipped, a wry smile gracing his lips. "I'm tempted to ask who you are and what you did with my partner."

"Yeah, I guess I am," Tsuzuki laughed, partially grateful for the mood-breaker. "I guess you just have that effect on me, Hisoka. I start showing a more serious side when I'm thinking about my feelings for you."

"You mean a more mature side," Hisoka countered.

"Whatever. Same thing."

Hisoka snorted, both in amusement and mock-exasperation. The smile never left his youthful face, however.

"You should try that smiling thing a lot more often, Hisoka," Tsuzuki grinned. "It really suits you."

"Oh, stop," Hisoka muttered, dipping his head down to hide his blush. For a second, he regretted getting his hair cut. He could hide behind longer hair a lot better. As it was, Tsuzuki immediately saw him redden, which only caused him to laugh again. The laugh was affectionate, not condescending in the slightest, but that didn't stop Hisoka from blushing harder.

They went back and forth for some time, trading good-natured barbs about everything from Tsuzuki's eating habits to Hisoka's Spartan taste in home décor (or lack thereof). As they bantered, the crescent moon rose higher into the sky, until it had reached its zenith and was shining bright white directly above them.

"Gods, it's getting cold," Hisoka shivered as a sharp gust of wind blew through the clearing, making them pause. Glancing at the neon blue digits of his wristwatch, he realized that it was later than he thought it was, and they had been out here in the wild for some time now.

"So it is," Tsuzuki nodded, also feeling the encroaching chill. "Does this help?" The older shinigami suddenly moved closer, wrapping his arms around the boy and drawing him into a tender kiss. He felt Hisoka sigh into his mouth and return the caress. Though more intimate touching was still off limits, Hisoka had taken quite well to cuddling and kissing. He found the empath's inexperience charming, but he had every intention to give him plenty of practice. As much as he enjoyed kissing Hisoka now, he could only imagine what it would be like once he was more skilled. What a delicious thought _that_ was...

"Well?" he asked softly when he pulled away, an indulgent twinkle in his eyes. "Any better?"

"Mm, it did help," Hisoka replied as if he were analyzing the kiss. "I'm still more attracted to the idea of getting into my pajamas and curling up on the couch with a blanket and a book, though. Or just going straight to bed."

Tsuzuki laughed. "Yeah, I thought so. Can't blame me for trying though, ne?" His expression sobered, and he slowly stood up, feeling a slight stiffness in his joints from being on the ground for so long. He helped Hisoka stand up as well, placing a light kiss at his hairline. "It is getting awfully chilly out, you're right."

"I really enjoyed myself, Asato," the younger shinigami said again, placing his hand over his heart to demonstrate his sincerity. "But I think it's about time we call it a day." He cocked his head as Tsuzuki turned to the side, his hand up to hide a sudden yawn. "See?"

"You're right," Tsuzuki said through the end of the yawn. He gave Hisoka a quick but firm hug, then stepped back, preparing to translocate from Earth back to Meifu. Going between worlds wasn't quite the same as going from place to place within the same world, and required more than just a passing thought. "Come on, Hisoka," he said, his hand finding the empath's, "I'll take you home now."

* * *

He was lying facedown on something firm, an earthy smell invading his nose. A fringelike texture was brushing against his skin in places, and when he inhaled he felt whatever it was tickling the edges of his nostrils.

As he rose up further out of unconsciousness, he was able to put those disjointed sensations together and figure out what they meant. He was lying on the ground, and the "fringe" he was feeling was blades of grass. The earthy smell needed no explanation.

A breeze suddenly blew, lifting his hair and rustling through tree branches above him. Another scent came to his attention. It was the scent of cherry blossoms.

Opening his eyes, he blinked in the reddish light, his vision momentarily blurred as if from lingering sleep. He wasn't uncomfortable where he was, but waking up facedown on the ground wasn't exactly normal, at least not for Hisoka. He couldn't speak for anyone else, but he himself didn't make a habit out of sleeping outside.

Slowly rising to his feet, he shook off the last of the sleep-feeling, though the absence of a need to stretch felt odd. Usually after just waking up, he needed to stretch his muscles, like most people, opening the fibers up to blood flow and oxygen. That and the absence of yawning gave him a strange feeling of foreboding. Where was he, and why was he unconscious on the ground?

Looking up at the sky, Hisoka felt as if his heart had stopped. Everything fell into place with a nearly audible snap.

A sakura grove. A full, blood-red moon. _That Tree._

"Oh gods," he whispered, fear flooding his every nerve. _Not this dream again! I don't want to remember!_

He whipped his head from side to side, desperately searching for his assailant. If he was dreaming about being in that accursed place, then Muraki Kazutaka was sure to be nearby. His breath was rapid and shallow, his eyes wide in terror. Whenever he found himself in this dream, he gave in to complete fear, and for good reason. That horrible night when he was thirteen had brought his already bleak world crashing down around him, sealing his fate and condemning him to a life - and afterlife - of agony.

And yet, something seemed off. He was standing directly under That Tree, the exact spot where Muraki had raped him. Usually he was a short distance away, as the dream tended to start with him watching Muraki kill that nameless woman under That Tree's swaying branches. But, Muraki and the knifing victim were, for the moment, nowhere to be found.

Confusion mixed with his fear, and he became desperate. He turned to run, but his toe caught on a tree root, sending him sprawling.

Rolling over onto his back, he realized another discrepancy. He was not barefoot, nor was he dressed in the traditional night-clothes he had ventured out of the house in on that fatal night. He was wearing his normal sneakers, t-shirt, and jeans. He was also not the willowy, borderline-skinny thirteen-year-old he had been when Muraki attacked him. His body was that of his sixteen-year-old self, the way he was when he had finally succumbed to the curse. Granted, there wasn't a whole lot of difference, as the curse's sapping of his energy had severely stunted his growth during his last three years. Physically, he was a carbon copy of his father, and Nagare at sixteen had been noticeably larger and more muscular than Hisoka. Despite his truncated physical development, however, Hisoka was sure that he was his current age, rather than the even frailer thirteen-year-old he usually was in this dream.

Getting shakily to his feet, he looked around again, paranoia nearly eating him alive. "W-what's going on...?" he managed to gasp through his hyperventilating. "W-why am I-"

A searing, burning sensation suddenly ripped through his body. He gave a choked cry, staggering as he just barely managed to keep his balance. Dread surged through him, making him feel physically ill. On the bare skin of his arms, and no doubt the rest of his body, a writhing pattern of vivid red lines had appeared.

Another incongruity. He was already cursed. The vile marks were already burned into his flesh, branding him as Muraki's possession.

_If the marks are manifesting_, he thought, trembling in terror, _then _he_ must be-_

Strong arms appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around his slender form and pulling him back against a firm body. A hated, utterly evil presence filled his mind, and Hisoka felt as if he were going insane.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a deceptively pleasant voice whispered into his ear, breath gently caressing the delicate structure. A tongue flicked out, gracing his ear with the briefest, gentlest touch.

"Muraki!" he managed to grind out, his entire body going stiff. The mad surgeon's presence was overwhelming, and the boy struggled to keep from screaming. Weakly, he fought against his captor's hold.

His nemesis chuckled, pulling him even tighter against his chest. "Oh, my precious little doll, you've missed your master, haven't you?"

"Shut up!" Hisoka snarled, anger and revulsion suddenly mixing with his fear. "Let me go, you sick _fuck_!"

"You remain as feisty as ever," Muraki purred, a chilling smile in his voice. "I don't know which I prefer: This demanding, sharp-tongued little hellcat you've become, or the screaming, wild-eyed rabbit you were upon our first meeting." One of his hands moved lower, pressing the flat of his palm against Hisoka's fluttering belly. "Both are so _delicious_..."

"Don't you dare!" the empath hissed, gripping Muraki's wrist and stopping any further descent of his hand. At least, he _hoped_ it would stop any further descent.

Muraki laughed again. "Oh, my dear, naïve boy. Your incessant chirping will never deter me. You should know that by now." The hand suddenly moved upward, gripping his chin and pushing his head all the way back, bending his neck painfully and forcing him to meet his assailant's mismatched eyes. "Doll, it's been so long since I've seen you, longer still since I've had you. I must remedy this. I've missed you _so_ much."

Hisoka went cold. _Oh gods, he's going to rape me again._ The most horrible thing about this dream hadn't changed a bit. And yet, everything else was off. Always before, Muraki hadn't said a word. He had merely caught the terrified boy as he tried to flee, dragged him back to That Tree, stripped his flimsy clothes off, and violated him in the worst of ways. Now, he was talking so much, announcing the vile things he intended to do with Hisoka's body. It couldn't be...

"I-is this really a dream?" Hisoka stammered, trying in vain to rein in his chaotic emotions. "Is this all coming from inside my head? Or is this really you? Are you invading my sleep to send me some sick message? _Tell me, damn it!_"

Muraki suddenly spun him around, the movement so quick that Hisoka felt a touch of motion sickness. The boy was slammed up against the vast tree trunk, Muraki's hand squeezing his throat. Hisoka's vision swam as his head connected hard with the rough bark.

"Perhaps this is me," Muraki whispered, getting close enough for his breath to ghost over Hisoka's skin. "And perhaps this is all a dream, a hallucination born solely of your broken, diseased mind." He moved even closer, sandwiching Hisoka between the trunk and his body. "Either way, it's just fine by me."

Hisoka's lips were then taken in a violent, plundering kiss, a greedy tongue thrusting deep inside. A thin wail broke free of his throat, and he struggled feebly. Fear was overwhelming him again, and another, even stronger wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. One of Muraki's hands slid up under his shirt to caress his skin in false affection, while the other clamped hard around Hisoka's lower jaw, preventing him from biting down. Muraki's fingers were sure to leave bruises, pressing so hard the insides of Hisoka's cheeks were lacerated by his own teeth.

Panic began to set in, an urge to shriek uncontrollably swelling in his chest and throat. _I don't want this! I don't want this I don't want this I don't want this no no no PLEASE...!_

The world spun, pain once again exploding in the back of Hisoka's head, even worse than the last time. It took him a moment to realize that Muraki had thrown him to the ground, his head slamming into a tree root as he fell. By the time his vision came back into focus, Muraki was bending over him, his knees on either side of the boy's legs. The doctor's nimble hands were undoing his jeans, sliding them and his underwear down his slim thighs, exposing him to the bloody moonlight.

"Perhaps I need to remind you," his rapist said, voice unbelievably amicable, "just who your master is." He leaned down to whisper in Hisoka's ear, teeth closing over the lobe hard enough to draw blood. "Wherever you go, boy, whoever you are with, you must never forget that _you are mine_." He dragged the last word out in a demented sigh, and Hisoka choked as the searing of the curse intensified to absolute torture.

He could do nothing as Muraki held him down and raped him.

* * *

Hisoka jerked awake with enough force to lift himself partially off the bed, a hoarse cry tearing itself from his throat. He was breathing hard, his mouth wide in his effort to suck in enough oxygen. Collapsing back down to the mattress, he whipped his gaze from side to side, confused delirium filling his eyes. He was trembling so strongly his teeth were chattering.

Finally, after an agonizing moment of not knowing where he was or what had just happened, his mind finally woke up to reality, realizing that he was in his own bed in his own apartment. Just like when he had fallen asleep.

_Just a dream_, he thought, relief so strong he nearly fainted washing over him. _Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream..._

His skin tingled with a dull, throbbing burn, and he knew without looking that the curse was shining brightly. He was drenched with sweat, and as he shakily pushed himself upright, he became aware of an even more revolting sensation.

His pajama bottoms were sticky with ejaculate. Once again, just like when he was thirteen, Muraki had coaxed him to orgasm, manipulating his body into responding favorably to the attack. Anger and humiliation slammed into him, bile rising up in his throat. His stomach heaved, and he knew he was going to vomit.

Throwing the covers off of himself, he stumbled out of bed and into the adjacent bathroom, where he indeed wretched up what remained of his dinner at Anna Miller's into the sink. Hisoka slumped over the basin, coughing and heaving, the bitter taste making him salivate to the point of drooling. Spitting into the sink, he turned the cold tap on, washing the disgusting slurry down the drain. Filling a cup with water, he rinsed his mouth out and then quickly gulped down several swallows, trying to calm his still roiling stomach. Turning the faucet off, he tried to set the cup down, but his hands were shaking so badly that it rattled across the countertop, toppled over, and rolled off onto the floor.

He felt unbelievably filthy. His pajamas clung to his skin with sweat and semen, making him feel about ready to vomit again. He tore the pajamas off so forcefully a few buttons popped off, flinging the soiled garments away with a shudder. Ripping the shower curtain back, he turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, steam quickly filling the room. Getting in, he almost jerked away from the scalding cascade, but forced himself to endure it. He had to get _clean_, damn it!

Hisoka finally stepped out again over twenty minutes later, his skin absolutely red from the blistering water. He was raw to the point of bleeding from the excessive scrubbing he had felt compelled to do. He had almost screamed aloud when applying soap to his shredded skin, but managed to restrain himself, uttering only a tormented whine. Now, his skin was throbbing with pain all over, not just where the curse marred it. He paid it no mind. He was a shinigami, after all, and he would heal soon.

Drying himself only minimally, the towel sticking to the bleeding areas and making it difficult - not to mention painful - he grabbed his bathrobe from its peg and shrugged it on, staggering numbly out into the bedroom. He didn't even bother to tie the robe closed.

The sight of his bed greeted him. The covers were tangled, sheets stained darkly with sweat and something else in the area where he had been lying.

Again overcome with disgust, he ripped the covers from the mattress and threw them in the direction of the laundry hamper. Swallowing another wave of nausea, he went out the bedroom door into the living room, finally tying his bathrobe closed, his hands shaking. The curse was still smoldering on his skin as he collapsed down onto the couch, and he knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight.

Never before. Never before had the dream been so vivid, so lifelike, and never before had it gone on for so long. Almost every time he had the dream, he woke up either just before or just after Muraki began to rape him in earnest, the pain and terror becoming too much for his mind to handle. But this time, it had gone all the way to the end. He was forced to feel everything, _everything_, just like when he was thirteen. Hisoka had felt every brutality upon his body in horrifying detail, the sensations seemingly magnified by his fear. When it was finally over, Muraki had left him bleeding and mewling on the ground, shivering violently in the cold wind. A hysterical, hopeless wail had risen up in his chest and throat, and that's when he had finally managed to tear himself from the dream and return to the waking world.

He hadn't shed a tear since waking up, but now his eyes grew hot, fat droplets streaming down his chilled skin. A choked sob wrenched itself free, and he curled up into a ball, his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. Finally letting go, he wept bitterly, his slender body convulsing with the force of his anguished cries.

"A-Asato...!"

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** A thousand apologies for doing that to Hisoka. I wish I had a more satisfying explanation than it's how I planned the story to go. Don't kill me, Hisoka fans! He's my favorite _YnM_ character, and I have a nasty habit of being mean to my favorites. Gomen ne.

Aside from that, how was my first scene with Muraki? Yeah, he's not there in person, just in a dream, but it's the first time he's actually come into the story instead of just being mentioned. As for the nature of Hisoka's dream, whether it was really just a dream or rather a psychic sending from Muraki...take that as you will. I haven't decided which explanation I like better, so I'm not going to choose. It's all up to the reader as to which is more likely. So there. I'm interested in hearing your interpretations, though, so fire away.

Lastly, I hope I didn't make Hisoka too OOC. His giddiness in the first scene, though hidden, is so out of place in him that I hope my explanation for it is plausible. You guys have always praised me for my realism in this story, and I hope I didn't just fuck it all up.

See y'all next time.


	15. Damage Control

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Many thanks to crsg, LillianeDeMalvrier, walkerminion, loveless, mooopower, spiritmind675, Riaries, fugu-chan, Juu, Aerith21, Otherblood, WoodlandBeef, Behan, chiakaiyuki, and Chubby-King-Chocobo for reading and reviewing chapter fourteen! I'd also like to give a shout-out to WoodlandBeef for leaving the 100th review on this story. Muchas gracias.

I would have had this chapter out much earlier, but I've been dealing with a lot of personal issues lately. I thank you all for your kind patience.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Fifteen: Damage Control**

"Good morning, everyone!"

Tsuzuki's cheerful greeting rang throughout the common office area, announcing his arrival. It was early Monday morning, just after clock-in time, and the oldest shinigami seemed to be in a much better mood than he usually was on a Monday. Though Tsuzuki took his job seriously, getting up early to go to work after the weekend ranked pretty low on his list of favorite things to do.

"Mornin', Tsuzuki," Watari smiled over his coffee mug. "Did you remember to punch in, or did you just blow right by the time-clock again?"

"Oh, shut up," Tsuzuki pouted. "I've only done that a few times." In his flightiness, Tsuzuki had indeed forgotten to punch in or out from time to time. Though even he rarely did it, Watari sometimes teased him about it, as a missed punch caused an error in the payroll system and often triggered a lecture on responsibility and attentiveness from Tatsumi.

Tsuzuki's pout quickly disappeared, however, as he spied across the room the object of his affections, already seated at his desk. His back was turned toward the entrance, so Tsuzuki couldn't see his face. He was sitting hunched over the desktop, as if studying a document closely.

_Ever the busy little bumblebee_, Tsuzuki though warmly, quickly crossing the office space to greet his partner. "Good morning, Hisoka!" he chirped, happy to see the boy again. "How was your training session yesterday?"

Hisoka jolted, as if surprised by the other man's presence. He didn't immediately answer, though his shoulders moved as if he were breathing a short sigh.

Tsuzuki got a good look at his partner, and his cheerfulness suddenly faltered. Hisoka wasn't bent over a document, as he originally thought, but instead had his elbows on the desktop, his hands supporting his sagging head. The empath's fingers were threaded through his light hair, the knuckles steepled slightly. It gave him the appearance that he was _clutching_ at his head, indicating a great deal of tension, or perhaps a splitting headache. There was an almost unnoticeable tremor in the younger shinigami, the kind of shakiness that was often caused by extreme hunger or exhaustion.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki said more quietly, taking a step closer.

His partner swallowed and raised his head, giving Tsuzuki a look at his face. The boy's normally vibrant eyes were dull and bloodshot, dramatic dark circles marring the skin underneath. The bruise-like blemishes were made even more prominent by Hisoka's unusual paleness, giving him the appearance of a gaunt, sick individual who hadn't eaten for some time. Tsuzuki's level of concern skyrocketed.

"Hisoka," he said again, laying a hand on his partner's shoulder, "what happened to you? You look awful! Are you sick?"

The young man blinked a few times, as if trying to focus his vision, or perhaps to make sense of Tsuzuki's words. After a moment, he slowly shook his head.

Tsuzuki knelt by his side, so he could meet his partner's eyes more easily. "I didn't keep you up too late on Saturday, did I?" he asked, worry in his violet gaze. Losing sleep sometimes had a domino effect, he knew. If Hisoka had lost sleep the night before, and had been busy with training all day yesterday, he may not have been able to get any extra rest last night. Tiredness sometimes _prevented_ someone from falling asleep easily, which meant the empath may have lost sleep last night as well, further exacerbating his exhaustion.

"No," Hisoka murmured, his voice little more than a throaty rasp. He breathed in a slow, deep breath, his lower lip trembling. It looked like he was about to cry.

"Then tell me what's wrong," Tsuzuki said gently. Hisoka's hands were now resting on the desk, so he reached up and laid one of his own lightly over the one nearest him. He squeezed the hand reassuringly. "If something's bothering you, Hisoka, please tell me. I want to help you if I can."

Hisoka turned to meet Tsuzuki's gaze, his features schooled into the closest semblance of calmness that he could muster in his condition. As emerald met amethyst, however, his demeanor immediately crumbled. His trembling got worse, eyes going wide as his emotions suddenly surged out of control. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but all he could manage was a strange noise not unlike a whimper. He turned and pushed himself to his feet, moving as if his muscles ached, but then abruptly broke into a run, fleeing the room and leaving a stunned Tsuzuki behind.

"HISOKA!" Tsuzuki cried after him, only taking a few seconds to recover from his shock. He leapt to his feet and bolted after his seemingly possessed partner, heedless of the concerned and confused stares from the other shinigami who were just coming into work. Something was terribly, horribly wrong with Hisoka, and Tsuzuki felt as if a ten-ton stone had been dropped into his stomach. The empath had been so happy the last time he had seen him! What could have happened yesterday to change him so completely?

He followed his partner through the short route to the men's room, and upon pushing through the double-hinged door, he found the boy crouched on the floor next to the sinks, his forehead and fists pressed against the tiled wall.

"Hisoka!" he gasped, dropping down to his knees, his hands gripping Hisoka's trembling shoulders. "Talk to me, please! What's happened to you?"

At first he got no answer. Hisoka merely knelt there, shivering violently, his breathing deep and erratic. Tsuzuki couldn't get a good look at his face, so he was unsure if Hisoka was actually crying or if he was simply overcome with emotions. He pushed down the urge to shake the boy and continue pleading for an explanation. All he could do was sit there and wait for his partner to calm down.

After several agonizingly long minutes, Hisoka's shaking began to subside, his half-sobs gradually quieting until he was breathing only a little harder than normal. Slowly, as if it were painful to move, he rose to his feet, his back still to Tsuzuki. He wavered slightly as he stood up straight, his hands coming up to his face. Covering his eyes, he breathed a deep sigh, trying to center himself and regain his normal calm. He sniffed, the tiny noise making Tsuzuki's heart tremble. He looked and sounded so mournful.

Tsuzuki stood up as well, watching his partner. He had absolutely no idea what to do. As he reached out to lay a hand on Hisoka's shoulder, however, the empath turned to face him, startling him into drawing his hand back. Hisoka's head was still bowed, but at least his face wasn't completely hidden anymore.

"Hisoka...?" Tsuzuki ventured cautiously when Hisoka still said nothing. "Are you okay?"

The younger shinigami shook his head, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. Normally the gesture would seem defiant or defensive, but right now he only appeared wounded and vulnerable, as if he were trying to protect himself from further harm.

Finally, he began to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've lied to you, Asato."

Tsuzuki was taken aback, not expecting that to be the first thing out of Hisoka's mouth. "What? Lied to me about what?"

"I wasn't training with Sensei all day yesterday," the boy clarified, looking away as if in shame. "I didn't even go out my front door."

Instead of feeling offended that Hisoka had deliberately deceived him - that was the last thing on his mind - Tsuzuki only felt more concerned. It wasn't like Hisoka to lie. Something dreadful indeed must have happened to compel him to do such a thing, especially with his partner.

"Tell me what happened, Hisoka," Tsuzuki gently urged, taking the boy by the shoulders again. "Please."

Hisoka swallowed, taking another deep breath. He couldn't look Tsuzuki in the eye, instead focusing on one of the buttons of the older shinigami's suit jacket. "Th-the night of our date...or maybe it was morning of the next day, I don't know...that night I had a...I had a dream."

"A dream?" Tsuzuki repeated, stepping closer and running his fingers through the empath's smooth hair. He hoped the caress was comforting for his partner.

Hisoka nodded. "After I woke up...I couldn't get back to sleep. I sat awake crying until it was daylight. I-I spent all of yesterday in a daze. My body wanted so much to sleep but...b-but I couldn't! I was too afraid! I was terrified the dream would come back! I haven't slept at all since...since...!" Here he paused briefly, struggling to rein in his emotions. His eyes squeezed shut as if to hold in tears, hands balling into fists at his sides. After managing to contain himself, he continued. "I don't know how I managed to sound lucid when I called you and told you I'd be training all day. I wanted to see you, but...I-I just couldn't! I couldn't face you! I was too humiliated...too ashamed!"

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said as firmly but as gently as he could. "Not in front of me."

"I know, I just..." Hisoka sniffed. He rubbed at his eyes. "I-I'm sorry..."

Tsuzuki's hands slid down from Hisoka's hair to the sides of his face, his palms warming the boy's chilled skin. He touched their foreheads together, their breath mingling in the small space between their lips.

"Hisoka," he said, his thumbs tenderly massaging his partner's cheekbones, "you dreamed of Muraki, didn't you?"

A shudder ran through the younger man. "Y-yes...!" he choked, eyes squeezing shut again. He was shivering violently, and he didn't resist when he felt Tsuzuki persuade him away from the wall and into a protective embrace. Exhausted beyond belief, he sagged against his partner, clutching at the soft cotton of Tsuzuki's button-down shirt. His tears finally broke loose, and he wept pathetically against Tsuzuki's chest.

"Oh, gods!" he sobbed, words spilling from his lips like tears were spilling from his eyes. "It was horrible! Worse than it had ever been before!"

Brokenly, he told Tsuzuki about the dream. About being sixteen and already cursed instead of thirteen and still "innocent." About Muraki speaking freely rather than staying mute, announcing all the sick things he wanted to do to his captive. About how the only part of the dream that _hadn't_ changed was the very worst part of all. About not being able to wake up when he usually did, forced to endure in terrifying clarity the entire stomach-churning experience of being raped to within an inch of his sanity. About vomiting and crying and scrubbing himself bloody upon waking from the endless nightmare.

The only thing he didn't tell Tsuzuki was how Muraki had coaxed him to orgasm, making him briefly moan in ecstasy rather than scream in terror. It was just too mortifying. Tsuzuki didn't know about the pleasure Muraki had forced upon Hisoka at age thirteen, so there was no reason for him to know about the identical experience the night before last. A violent shudder moved through the empath. The memory of being consumed, however briefly, by seething pleasure at the hands of his rapist was enough to flip Hisoka's stomach.

Tsuzuki was silent as Hisoka recounted his horrifying experience. He just couldn't find anything to say. All he could do was hold the boy in a loving, hopefully comforting embrace. He had seen Hisoka this distraught only once before, and that had been when he had thrown himself through Touda's flames at Tsuzuki, hysterical in his fear that he would lose his partner to the blackness of oblivion.

Finally, the younger shinigami quieted down, his sobs diminishing until they were little more than brief, quiet whimpers. His grip on Tsuzuki's shirt had slackened, his tears having slowed almost to a stop. He seemed to have given in to complete exhaustion, and he hung there in Tsuzuki's arms, verging on collapse.

"Love," Tsuzuki whispered, his lips against Hisoka's ear, "this dream was so different from the ones you've had before. Do you think...maybe...Muraki was contacting you directly...?"

"I-I don't know," Hisoka sniffed. "I thought of that, too. It just seemed too vivid, too _real_ to be a dream. B-but I don't know. I want to believe it _was_ just a dream, but I...I just don't know!"

Tsuzuki was silent for a long moment. He knew what he had to say next, but just the thought of it was enough to make him wince in pain. He had waited so long for Hisoka to accept him. For the first time in his long life, he had felt that true happiness was finally within his grasp. But now...

"Hisoka," he said softly, a slight tremor in his voice. "Maybe...maybe we should distance ourselves from each other. If Muraki was contacting you directly...if he's angry that we've become a couple...he might continue to torment you as long as we stay close. I-I don't want that to happen. _Anything_ but that."

Hisoka had gone silent and still. His face was mostly hidden against Tsuzuki's shirt, so his expression was unreadable as Tsuzuki forced himself to propose their separation. Even his trembling had stopped.

"If it's necessary," Tsuzuki continued, the tremor getting worse, "I'll sever our partnership at work. I don't want to risk him hurting you again. If he wants us apart-"

Hisoka suddenly interrupted, his voice firmer and clearer than it had been all morning. "No."

"Hisoka?"

"No, Asato," Hisoka repeated, finally looking his partner in the eyes. "I don't want that."

"But Hisoka-"

"I said _no_." As fatigued as they were, Hisoka's eyes were flashing with conviction. "Muraki's kept us apart long enough. If it wasn't for what he did to me, I would have accepted your love a long time ago. I wouldn't feel sick at the mere thought of sex, even sex with you." He shook his head. "I'll be damned if he keeps us apart any longer."

"I don't want to be apart either," Tsuzuki countered, "but if he's going to hurt you if we aren't...I'd rather be alone forever than watch you suffer at his hands!"

"It's what he wants!" Hisoka fired back. "If he really did contact me, if what I went through wasn't just a dream, then separating us is _exactly_ what he wants! I am _not_ going to satisfy his demands! I am _not_ going to give in to that sick freak!" He clenched his teeth, lowering his gaze. "If we separate, and it really _was_ just a dream..."

"I understand," Tsuzuki said gently, cradling Hisoka's face in his hands again. "I understand you perfectly. I want to stay close to you, too. But if that dream was a direct message from Muraki, and we stay together despite its warning...he may attack you again. He may _keep_ attacking you until we do what he wants."

"Then I'll find a way to deal with it. I won't just lie there and let him have his way with me. I'll fight back. I'm not the terrified little boy he captured that night under the sakura, nor am I alone anymore. I have you with me. There has to be _some_ way to resist him, I just haven't found it yet."

Tsuzuki sighed lengthily. "You won't give up in this, will you?"

"Never," Hisoka shook his head. "I'm not going to let that monster control my life, and I sure as hell won't let him get between us any longer. He's done that enough already."

Tsuzuki was quiet for a few moments, then he sighed again, this time through his nose. "You win," he conceded. "If you won't give into Muraki's demands, then I won't either."

"Thank you," Hisoka all but whispered, his shoulders dropping as if releasing a held breath.

"But Hisoka," Tsuzuki continued, "if that dream comes again, or if _anything_ happens, anything at all, that makes you think he's making contact with you, even if he doesn't attack you, I want you to tell me. No matter what you're doing or what I'm doing or what time of day or night it is, I want you to call me. Call me, come to my apartment, _something_. I don't want you to have to go through another day like yesterday. I won't have you suffer alone anymore."

Hisoka nodded slowly. "I'll do that. _I_ don't want to suffer alone anymore."

Tsuzuki chuckled, brushing a kiss against Hisoka's forehead. "I love you, Kurosaki Hisoka."

"And I love you, Tsuzuki Asato," the boy replied. Turning his face up, he placed an equally gentle kiss on Tsuzuki's lips. He was only half surprised when the older man pressed forward, turning the light caress into a proper kiss. Hisoka sighed, letting Tsuzuki's presence and affection wash over him. The trauma of the night before last, though still looming over him, seemed to lessen somewhat when he was with Tsuzuki.

"I should take you home, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said when they pulled apart a moment later. "You're in no shape to work today. You're exhausted."

Hisoka nodded slowly. "If Kachou doesn't mind, then yes, I think I'd be better off staying home today."

Tsuzuki truly smiled for the first time since he walked into the office. "All right. Go get your coat and stuff. I'll let Kachou know you're sick."

"I'm not sick, Asato."

"I know, but saying you are is much easier than trying to explain everything."

"That's true. You know, sometimes you manage to exhibit a modicum of cleverness, Asato."

"Hey now, be nice."

* * *

"Oi, Kachou!"

Tatsumi looked up from his clipboard, pausing in his report to the chief on the budget, employee statuses, and the progression of certain high-importance cases. None of the information he was conveying was confidential, and so he hadn't bothered to close the door tightly as he had entered. A slightly open door was a signal to the other employees that the chief was available to talk if needed, so neither Tatsumi nor Konoe were too surprised when Shoukanka's oldest shinigami walked in without knocking.

"What is it, Tsuzuki?" Konoe asked, acknowledging Tsuzuki's presence. He glanced up at Tatsumi. Though he hadn't been in the common office area to witness Hisoka's sudden flight and Tsuzuki's pursuit, he would have had to be deaf not to hear people talking about it. Tatsumi _had_ seen it for himself, and though he was outwardly as hard to read as he ever was, inwardly he had been surprised and deeply disturbed by the spectacle.

"I'm taking Hisoka home," Tsuzuki explained. "He's not feeling well today."

Konoe again glanced at Tatsumi. The secretary said nothing, though he did give a very slight nod.

"All right," Konoe said to his longest employee. "Make sure he gets home safely, Tsuzuki."

"Thanks!" Tsuzuki beamed, turning to exit the office. "I'll be back as soon as I have him settled in."

"Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi suddenly spoke up, halting Tsuzuki's departure.

"Hm?" Tsuzuki looked back at his former partner, waiting for him to continue.

"Why don't you stay with Kurosaki-kun?" Tatsumi suggested. "If he's not feeling well, he may benefit from having someone nearby to help him. I'm sure he would appreciate your being there."

Their eyes met, and though Tatsumi was no telepath, he tried to tell Tsuzuki with his eyes what he didn't with his tongue. _He needs you right now, Tsuzuki-san. Stay with him._

"Is that all right, Kachou?" Tsuzuki asked after a moment. Whether he got Tatsumi's message was unclear.

"That's fine with me," the chief said, shrugging. "There's nothing you two have to do today that can't be done tomorrow."

"Thank you!" Tsuzuki clapped his hands together and bowed his head, showing just how grateful he was. Upon straightening, he again met Tatsumi's sapphire eyes. Tsuzuki's gaze seemed to say _I owe you one, Tatsumi._

Tatsumi felt the corners of his mouth quirk up slightly as Tsuzuki exited, but his expression sobered again just as quickly. Something was very wrong with their youngest operative, and though he knew it wasn't really his business to know what it was, he found himself wishing fervently for the problem to be solved.

_Take care of him, Tsuzuki-san._

* * *

Hisoka made a small, serene sound as Tsuzuki gently pulled the bedcovers up to his shoulders, the sleeping empath relaxing back into the pillow.

Tsuzuki's fingers brushed against Hisoka's cheek. The boy was wearing clean pajamas, the sweat-soaked ones from Saturday having been tossed in the washing machine, along with the bedclothes Hisoka had flung at his laundry hamper. Upon seeing the state of the bedroom and bathroom, Tsuzuki had gathered up the sheets and pajamas and put them in the wash, retrieving clean ones from the closet and making a fresh bed as Hisoka changed in the bathroom. The low thrumming of the spin cycle could be heard from the kitchen, and Tsuzuki knew it would soon be time to switch over to the dryer.

It had taken him a while to coax Hisoka into sleep. The boy was terrified that the nightmare would come back if he fell asleep. Only when he was convinced that Tsuzuki would keep an eye on him, that he would be there to comfort him if he dreamed anything frightening, had he succumbed to his overwhelming exhaustion. He now lay on his back, his breathing calm and quiet. Once he had decided that it was okay to fall asleep, he had gone under almost alarmingly fast, his body taking full advantage of his acquiescence.

"Love you," Tsuzuki murmured, leaning down to kiss Hisoka's temple. After making sure his partner was securely tucked in, he went back into the bathroom to clean it up. The water cup and a bath towel were on the floor, and the tub was a mess. It was obvious that Hisoka hadn't had the heart or the mind to pick up after his blisteringly-hot shower. Not that Tsuzuki blamed him.

"You should take a warm - not a hot - bath when you're awake," he said quietly as he tidied up. "Or maybe a cool one. It'll help you feel better." He was pretty sure Hisoka hadn't bathed or showered on Sunday, as he likely didn't even think about it in the daze he had fallen into. Once the empath had rested, it would do him good to relax in the bathtub and let his tension drain further away. He needed today to be as tranquil as possible to help him recover from his recent trauma. A leisurely bath always helped Tsuzuki relax when he was stressed, and he figured Hisoka may feel the same.

Exiting the bathroom when everything was back in its place, he pulled a chair over from the small desk in the corner and sat down at the bedside, watching Hisoka sleep. The boy looked so peaceful, a far cry from the distraught, sobbing mess he had been earlier at work. Tsuzuki had found some over-the-counter sedatives in Hisoka's medicine cabinet, which had helped him in convincing Hisoka it was safe to sleep. The empath had swallowed a dose, and though he obviously hadn't needed help falling asleep, the medicine would help him maintain a deep, relatively dreamless slumber. Tsuzuki hoped it would, at least.

Though he wanted to stay and watch Hisoka, Tsuzuki stood when he heard the washing machine ding, indicating it was finished with its load. It would only take a few minutes to put the laundry into the dryer, and then he could come back.

"Damn you, Muraki...!" he whispered hoarsely as he transferred the sheets and pajamas. "Why can't you leave him in peace?" He slammed the dryer door harder than he intended, wincing at the loud sound it made.

In all honesty, he was very doubtful that what Hisoka had dreamed Saturday night had been just a nightmare. He was all but convinced that Muraki himself had launched the subconscious attack, raping the boy as surely as if he had done it in the waking world. He had been convinced for some time, or at least highly suspicious, that the mad surgeon had resumed his predatory activities. The string of unsolved murders they were investigating had "Muraki" written all over it, he thought. Hisoka, however, wouldn't accept it, which was beyond frustrating. It was so out of character for Hisoka, as the empath was famous within Enmachou for his pragmatism and unwavering rationality. It was so _ir_rational not to at least _look_ at Muraki as a suspect, but that was exactly what Hisoka was doing.

Despite his frustration, Tsuzuki believed he knew why Hisoka was refusing to look at things realistically. For all his determination to someday stop Muraki for good, Hisoka was inwardly terrified of his rapist. The Kyoto disaster and the events surrounding it had been a tremendous strain on the empath, and Tsuzuki knew his partner had struggled with the aftereffects for much longer than he let on. Muraki's insane determination to exact revenge upon his already dead half-brother, as well as his bizarre obsession with Tsuzuki and his body, had scarred Hisoka's psyche far deeper than the boy would admit. The impact of all this had been amplified by the connection between rapist and victim forged by the curse carved into Hisoka's very soul, and the whole experience had been in many ways just as great a trauma as their first encounter in Kamakura more than three years earlier.

Hisoka just wasn't mentally ready to face Muraki yet. The idea that his nemesis was again active, and could pop back into their lives at any moment, was more than Hisoka was willing to accept at this time. That's what it all came down to: Debilitating, all-consuming fear. Even if Hisoka didn't realize the full extent of this fear, it nevertheless governed his behavior in investigating the unsolved murders. If he considered Muraki a suspect, he would have to accept the possibility that his worst enemy was again wreaking havoc, and the empath just wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

Tsuzuki, however, didn't have such qualms. The complete lack of evidence left at the crime scenes was, as odd as it sounded, all the evidence he needed. Muraki Kazutaka was the prime suspect, as far as he was concerned.

_And if he's capable of killing again,_ Tsuzuki mused darkly as he returned to Hisoka's side, _then he's certainly capable of sending psychic attacks._ The killings had completely ceased outside of Kyushu once they had become aware that theirs was not the only jurisdiction they were happening in. It was as if the killer knew of their newfound knowledge and had changed his strategy accordingly, like he had succeeded in getting their attention and wanted to focus on holding it. Committing murder solely to get shinigami - Tsuzuki specifically - involved was something Muraki had done in the past, and Tsuzuki had no reason to believe he wouldn't try it again.

There was also the timing of Hisoka's nightmare. It was just too perfect to be coincidence. It had happened _right after_ he and Tsuzuki had gone on their first date. If Muraki was aware of their actions involving the investigation, then it stood to reason that he was aware of their actions outside of work, as well. If he was angry that his "doll" had dared to open his heart to another - to the man Muraki "loved," no less - what better way to interfere than to reassert his claim on the boy by raping him again? If raping him in reality wasn't feasible, than doing so in dreams was the next best thing. It would be so simple to tap into Hisoka's dreams through the connection they shared.

Tsuzuki leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on the edge of the mattress and dropping his head into his hands. "I'm so sorry, Love," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "I want to protect you...but I can't! I can't do a _damned thing_ to stop him from hurting you!"

He cried quietly for some time, his breathing occasionally broken by a weak sob. Tears flowed slowly down his cheeks, each one dripping off his chin to land with a soft _plip_ on the comforter.

Finally, having at last been able to rein in his emotions, he sat back up, taking his partner's relaxed hand and pressing a feather-light kiss to it.

"If I can't protect you," he murmured, carefully replacing the hand next to Hisoka's still body, "then at least let me be a comfort to you." He placed his own hands in his lap, his fingers curling into loose fists. "I'll help you conquer this. If I have to fight to my very last breath, I will. I swear it."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Blarg. This chapter was difficult to write. I'm hoping, as with chapter thirteen, that I didn't take a nosedive into cheesiness. I think Hisoka has an excuse to be hysterical, though, what with reliving his horrific dream from the last chapter. If I overdid it, please be kind. I've been feeling a little bleak myself lately, and it may have affected my writing.

Again, I apologize for the wait between chapters. I suppose a couple of weeks is nothing compared to that eight-month gap a while back, though. Hopefully I'll get my personal life sorted out soon, and then maybe I'll update a little more frequently. Don't bet your life on it, though. I'm horrible with updating regularly. Sigh.

Farewell (for now) and good night (or morning, or afternoon, or evening...).


	16. Pinwheels & Parakeets

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks much to EggDropSoup, spiritmind675, Meyham, Juu, fugu-chan, Serene Ice Dragon, WoodlandBeef, Behan, and Teldra for reading and reviewing chapter fifteen! Virtual hugs for everyone!

Forgive the chapter title. I know the birds in question aren't really parakeets, but I'm not sure what else to call them. Cockatiels? Birds of paradise? I dunno...

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Sixteen: Pinwheels & Parakeets**

Hisoka stood stock-still, his muscles tense, ready to spring into motion at an instant's notice. His breathing was shallow and fast, though not out of his control. He was concentrating hard, trying to determine when the next strike will come and from where.

He could feel sweat trickling down his skin, his palms slick with the stuff. It made his grip on the sword handle less than sure, and he mentally cursed. Tightening his hold even further, he stretched all his senses out as far as they would go.

His clothes were torn in places, soaked through with his own blood. The wounds had been no more than shallow cuts, and so had healed almost instantly, but the rent fabric and scarlet staining were clear reminders to him that he had let his adversaries get through his defenses more than once. He grit his teeth, hardening his resolve to finish this.

_Whzzzzz_

The whistling of a fast approaching object was his only warning, but that was all the warning he needed. Twisting his body at the waist, he struck out with the sword, his lower half following a split second later. The curved blade of his katana struck the incoming projectile dead-on, splitting it cleanly into two pieces. A small thrill of satisfaction surged through him as he heard the pieces hit the floor. One less thing to worry about...

"GAH!" he yelped in surprise. A sharp pain had suddenly sliced across his left side, a long cut opening up over his lower rib cage. He swore again, this time out loud. The second projectile had come in on the coattails of the first, striking just as Hisoka fended off its twin. Hissing in anger, he brought his sword to bear again, ready to cut down this assailant as well. The laceration on his side healed in a matter of seconds. He felt a slight tingling in the wound as his skin knit itself back together. It always felt like that.

The second attacker retreated after its first strike, but it didn't seem to be a patient one. After hovering around beyond Hisoka's reach for a moment, it suddenly dove back toward the young shinigami, spinning like a miniature saw blade.

Hisoka was prepared this time, twisting out of the way and swinging his sword up to intercept the attack. His blade hit the projectile at an angle this time, shattering it into many pieces. Hisoka winced as a shard struck him across the cheek, but he ultimately paid it no mind. Regardless of how clean it was, a win was a win.

_WHZZZZZ_

The young man tensed, the whistling coming to his ears again. There were more of them this time, and they were all coming for him at once. Without thinking, he threw himself to the side, narrowly missing being sliced to ribbons as three projectiles all tore through the space he had been occupying just an instant earlier.

Fluidly rolling to his feet, he brought his sword up again. The three new attackers had wasted no time, immediately turning and following his retreat. A moment before reaching him, they rapidly spread out, circling around to come at him from three directions at once.

"YA!" Hisoka snarled as his blade bit into one, felling it instantly. Without even thinking, he whirled to cut down the second, his battle instincts guiding his strikes. As the vibration of the impact thrummed through his hands, he cried out again, this time in pain. He hadn't been fast enough to keep all three from reaching him, and the third one had slashed across the back of his left knee. Hamstrung, he collapsed to the floor, his leg not having the strength to hold him up anymore. Grunting in pain, he grit his teeth so tightly they creaked, gripping his sword as hard as he could. Swinging it vertically upwards, the blade sang as it intercepted his last assailant, the vibration traveling all the way up to his elbows this time.

Exhausted, he slumped to the floor, breathing hard. The wounds he had received had been superficial, the blood loss minimal, but he had extended all his strength and senses to their limit in the skirmish, and he was well nigh completely drained at this point.

"Game's over, Hisoka," a familiar voice suddenly said from somewhere to his left. "You win."

Hisoka gave a great sigh, coming back to the present. That's right...he was in one of Enmachou's training rooms, and this had all been an exercise in his skill with a sword. Tsuzuki stood near a far wall, and it had been him who had thrown the projectiles into the air. Once leaving his hands, they had pretty much decided their own path, his control over what they did and how they approached Hisoka basically nil. His younger partner had become so absorbed in the staged battle that he had momentarily forgotten where he was.

Reaching up and removing the blindfold he had donned before the exercise began, he blinked in the light of the dojo. It was no brighter than usual, but after having his eyes covered and closed for the past several minutes, it seemed a little intense to him.

Tsuzuki was standing where Hisoka had last seen him, his arms folded in front of him. He was shifting on his feet, as if uncomfortable, and Hisoka detected disapproval on his face and in his emotions.

Rising to his feet, Hisoka went over to him, still wobbling a bit from the injury to his knee. The wound had closed, and it would be only a minute or two before he was walking normally again.

"Those shuriken Watari-san tinkered with were more effective than I expected," Hisoka said as he approached his partner, his breath still a little labored. "They gave me quite a workout. I'll have to ask him to make some more." The long-haired scientist had done some kind of experiment on the wheels of sharpened metal, and had asked Hisoka to try them out. Said experiment had given the shuriken a form of sentience, able to control their own paths as well as retreat and attack multiple times, rather than just following the trajectory of their wielder's throw. Hisoka suspected that whatever he had done to the shuriken had something to do with his unusual ability of bringing inanimate objects to life.

"Yeah," Tsuzuki said, though he didn't sound very convinced.

"What?" Hisoka asked, taking in Tsuzuki's concerned expression.

"You did very well, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said. "Only a few of the shuriken I threw managed to get through your defenses. Most of them didn't even touch you before you cut them down." He reached up with one hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, as if unhappy. "But I didn't like seeing you get hurt like that, Hisoka. Especially from something _I_ had thrown at you."

"It's nothing I can't handle, Asato," Hisoka said, tilting his head. "You know how quickly shinigami heal. Such shallow cuts are next to nothing for people like us."

"I know that," Tsuzuki nodded. "I just don't like seeing your blood spilled by my hand."

Hisoka looked at him a moment, then lowered his gaze. "I understand. I probably should have asked someone else to help me with this. I'm sorry."

Tsuzuki shook his head, an affectionate smile on his face. "Don't apologize. I knew what you wanted me to do. I could have said no, or stopped it before we were finished."

Hisoka nodded, slowly sinking down to sit on the tatami. "I'll ask Watari-san to blunt the edges next time," he said. "Or maybe perform the same process on something non-lethal. I won't get hurt that way."

"Good idea," Tsuzuki agreed, sitting as well. "If you want to continue doing exercises like this, I'd rather you did so with less destructive equipment."

The boy nodded again, reaching up to tuck some errant strands of hair behind his ears. Rolling his shoulders, he made a small sound of discomfort. His shoulders and upper back had been extremely tense during the exercise, both from holding tightly to the sword and from straining to determine which direction he would be attacked from. His neck, too, was stiff. Slowly swinging his head around in a circle, he grunted quietly when he felt the bones pop.

"I better do some stretching," he said, retrieving his sword's sheath from where it lay a foot or so away and sliding the blade into it. "I'm going to be really sore tomorrow if I don't." As quickly as shinigami healed from injuries, Hisoka had found out the hard way that muscle fatigue could be just as persistent in this life as in the past one. Perhaps it was because shinigami, although technically dead, were granted perfect imitations of living bodies to blend in with the humans they frequently interacted with. One of the side-effects of this, he presumed, was susceptibility to wear and tear just like living beings. Rapidly accelerated healing didn't seem to include preventing aches and pains caused by things like strenuous exercise or repetitive motions. If it had, Hisoka figured that shinigami would have been tireless and completely devoid of fatigue and exhaustion. Which they most definitely weren't.

_Things would be too easy that way_, he mentally grimaced, making to stand.

"Wait," Tsuzuki said, laying a hand on his shoulder and keeping him from standing. "Maybe I can help."

"Hm?" Hisoka settled back to the floor, looking at his partner. "You have a better idea?"

"Maybe," Tsuzuki smiled, shifting positions to move behind Hisoka.

"Asato?" Hisoka queried, twisting around to look at his partner. What was he doing?

"Face forward," Tsuzuki said, gently turning Hisoka's upper body away from himself. He smoothed his hands up Hisoka's neck and then back down to his shoulders. "I thought, maybe, I could help you work your tension out? I know it sounds silly, but I've always wanted to try this."

Hisoka didn't respond immediately. He knew exactly what Tsuzuki meant - a shoulder rub - but he suddenly had this insane urge to giggle like an immature teenager.

Which he did. "Y'know, Asato, that could be taken as slightly dirty."

Tsuzuki froze, then jerked his hands away from his younger partner's shoulders. "_Hisoka!_" he gasped in feigned shock. "Are you some sort of _closet pervert_?"

Hisoka laughed outright this time. Tsuzuki's dismay at the nature of the exercise had vanished, and they had fallen into their usual habit of trading verbal jabs.

"Seriously, though," Hisoka continued when his laughter died down. "It's not silly, Asato. I'd love for you to help out."

Tsuzuki smiled, replacing his hands on Hisoka's slimly-built shoulders. "Good. I'm glad."

They sat in amicable silence for a while, Tsuzuki gently but firmly working Hisoka's tired muscles with his fingers and palms, Hisoka feeling himself grow more relaxed all the while. Tsuzuki was no trained masseur, but he knew what shoulder pain was like. He just did whatever he thought would feel good on stiff, achy shoulders. He figured he was doing the right things, as Hisoka's tension was draining away, the empath making small sounds of relief every now and then.

"I hope you don't mind my having noticed this, Hisoka," Tsuzuki eventually said, another affectionate smile gracing his features, "but you're not as skinny as you used to be." When they had first met some years ago, Hisoka had been alarmingly thin. Scarecrow-like, Tsuzuki had thought. He had attributed it to the illness Hisoka had said he had died from, and then to the curse when he learned the true reason for Hisoka's death. Now, however, though still slightly built, Hisoka had obvious muscle definition underneath his clothes. He was still slender, but not skin-and-bones like he used to be.

Hisoka didn't say anything right away, instead turning just enough to look at Tsuzuki out of the corner of his eye, his expression seeming to ask, _Have you been staring at me?_

Tsuzuki blushed under Hisoka's gaze, but continued. "I have been looking at you," he said, answering Hisoka's unspoken question. "From time to time, that is. You know I want to be with you someday, Hisoka. I can't help but admire how beautiful you are every now and then."

It was Hisoka's turn to blush, and he looked away again. "You think I'm beautiful...?"

"You're stunning," Tsuzuki nodded, his touch easing until he was simply stroking Hisoka's shoulders comfortingly. "You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

The honey-blond shinigami blushed harder, his hands coming up to cover his face. This wasn't the first time he had been called beautiful. Muraki had often commented on how lovely and desirable he was, his voice saturated with a sick lust. Yuma and Saya squealed shrilly about how adorable he was whenever they saw him, chattering excitedly about how they were going to doll him up perfectly with just the right frills and lace. Hell, even Terazuma Hajime found him attractive, thinking him pretty enough to trigger the transformation usually induced only by females. This whispered statement from Tsuzuki, however, mortified him in a different way. A good way.

"Forgive me," Tsuzuki said quietly, drawing Hisoka back into a firm embrace. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you don't like me staring at you, I'll stop."

"N-no," Hisoka shook his head, relaxing back against his larger partner. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable. I'm...I'm flattered, in fact." Muraki's licentious gazes had always made him feel filthy and exposed, as if his clothing had been stripped away. Indeed, the mad surgeon knew exactly what he looked like in nothing but his skin. The thought of Tsuzuki watching him, however, admiring him for his beauty rather than as an object to violate, sent a warm feeling into his chest. When Muraki said he was beautiful, he felt nauseated. When Tsuzuki said it, he felt...loved. Wanted in a purely caring way, not a lustful, obsessive one.

"You're right, I have changed some since I first became a shinigami," the empath continued, settling into Tsuzuki's embrace. "When I was alive, before the curse got too debilitating, I could only do so much in my martial arts training. I exhausted myself every time, and my body had no opportunity to build any muscle. Any energy that normally would have gone to that was stolen by the curse. I think that was my family's first clue that I was ill. Despite all the strength training I went through, I was able to do less each time, not more. I was getting weaker and weaker...not something you'd expect from a martial arts student." He shifted so he was sideways in Tsuzuki's lap, letting them see each other's faces. "Now that I'm a shinigami, though, I can do so much more. I'm able to pursue my training like I never could when I was alive, and my body has changed over time accordingly. I think I'll always be on the thin side, but at least I'm not made of glass anymore."

"And you're so good at it," Tsuzuki agreed. "You're deadly with a sword, and I've seen only a few other archers who can shoot as well as you without having decades more experience. Perhaps that's one of the reasons you were chosen as a shinigami. You not only have great potential as a healer, but you're an excellent physical fighter."

"Maybe," Hisoka nodded slightly. That did make sense. It wasn't just the individuals choice that determined if they became a shinigami. Scores more people who died with "unfinished business" became ghosts rather then shinigami. Though it was ultimately up to the individual as to whether to accept the position or not, they had to be scouted out by Enma-daiou's agents first. Perhaps Hisoka's innate skill with physical weapons had been just as much a reason to choose him as his soul's vast natural power reserves had been. After all, strong magic wasn't the only reason people were scouted to be shinigami. Watari Yutaka had next to no magical power, after all, yet his scientific and engineering prowess was all but inhuman. Not that that stopped him from exploding his lab on a regular basis.

"You're gorgeous, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said. "I've thought that from the moment I first saw you. But now it's a healthy, strong beauty, rather than a delicate, fragile one." He smiled indulgently. "I think I like you better this way."

Hisoka felt another blush warm his cheeks, a shy giggle emerging from his throat. "Asato, you're embarrassing me."

Tsuzuki laughed as well. "Sorry. Are you feeling any better now?"

"I am," Hisoka nodded. "I'm much more relaxed than before. Thank you."

"No problem," Tsuzuki winked.

They separated, the smaller of the two standing. Reaching up over his head, he arched back in a long, leisurely stretch, a low groan coming from deep in his throat as he felt his muscles open up. His back popped once or twice, his spine realigning itself.

"Well, time to go I guess," he said, picking up his sword and stepping into his straw-and-canvas zori. "I may as well go tell Watari-san how his shuriken worked out."

Tsuzuki gave a small sound of agreement, though he stayed kneeling on the floor a moment longer. Hisoka was nearly to the door when he finally stood. "Ne, Hisoka."

"Hm?" Hisoka looked back at him. His hand was on the door, but he hadn't opened it yet.

Tsuzuki found himself rubbing the back of his neck again. "Have you...have you had any more dreams lately...about you-know-who?"

Hisoka sighed lengthily. "No, I haven't. Not since the night of our first date." It had been almost a month since that awful night, and the nightmare had yet to repeat itself. He turned toward Tsuzuki, his arms crossed. "You know I promised to let you know if I did."

"I know, I know," Tsuzuki said placatingly, retrieving his overcoat from where it was folded up on the tatami. "I just wanted to ask, just to make sure. You know I'm concerned about you, Hisoka."

"I know, and I appreciate it," Hisoka replied softly. He didn't feel offended at the insinuation that Tsuzuki didn't trust him to speak up. He knew his older partner just wanted to make certain he was okay. He looked down, arms still crossed. "Maybe it _was_ just a dream," he said, still quiet. "An unusually vivid nightmare."

"Mm," Tsuzuki muttered noncommittally. He wished he could believe that. It wasn't really like Muraki to strike and then retreat completely, but mind games were one of the doctor's favorite pastimes. The perfect timing and brutal clarity of the dream still had him convinced that it was a genuine attack. "Ne, Hisoka, there's something I want to give you. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else."

Hisoka looked up at him again, arms uncrossing. "Oh?"

Tsuzuki walked over to his partner, fishing around in a pocket of his overcoat as it hung draped over an arm. "This," he said, pulling a fuda from the pocket and holding it out to Hisoka.

The green-eyed shinigami looked at it a moment, confused. "A fuda?" he asked eventually, slowly reaching out to take it. On closer inspection, he realized the intricate calligraphy on the fuda had the characters for _summon_ and _messenger_ intertwined with the other kanji. "This is one of your personal messengers," he said in sudden understanding, remembering the small, ethereal birds Tsuzuki sometimes sent out to deliver or retrieve communication.

"That's right," Tsuzuki nodded. "I've tweaked this one so it will respond to you, though."

"But why?" Hisoka asked, giving Tsuzuki a questioning look.

"I want you to take it so you always have a way of contacting me," the violet-eyed man explained. "If you need me for any reason, just send this shiki out. It'll know where to find me, no matter where I am. Even if I'm in another world, it'll come straight to me. You don't need to include a note with it. I'll know exactly who it's from, and it will guide me back to you."

Hisoka studied the innocuous-looking swatch of rice paper. To the untrained eye, it was just like the strips of paper often seen in and around Shinto and Buddhist temples, carrying prayers or wishes. Hisoka, however, could clearly feel the power buried within it, and it stirred faintly at his touch. Though Tsuzuki's fuda usually only responded to his own magic, this one had indeed been altered to respond to Hisoka.

"Thank you, Asato," he finally said, tucking the fuda away in his own pocket. "It's a good idea, you're right. I'll always keep it with me, in case of an emergency."

Tsuzuki smiled. "Good. I wouldn't want you to find yourself needing help and having no way of getting it." He patted Hisoka's shoulder, his smile turning into a grin. "And even if you just want to see me, don't hesitate to use it. It'll guarantee I'll be by your side as quickly as possible."

"Asato, I wouldn't misuse your fuda like that," Hisoka snorted, giving him a chiding look. "Besides, who says I'd ever want to see you that badly?"

"You're so mean, Hisoka," Tsuzuki sniffed, pretending to be wounded.

"Nah, I just call it tough love."

"Same thing!"

"Baka..."

* * *

Hisoka looked at the mutilated body lying before him, swallowing thickly. The young man looked like hed been attacked by a pack of canines, mauled almost beyond recognition. Very little skin, from what Hisoka could see, was left intact. The youth was just one large open wound, practically.

"It's graphic, I know," said a soft, female voice from behind him, "but healers often see things like this and worse. If someone's life is in your hands, you can't let yourself be bothered by the sight of it."

Hisoka looked behind him. Sakihana-sensei was kneeling on a floor cushion a short distance away, watching her student. She was a picture of calmness, as if she wasn't sitting just a few feet from a bleeding mass of mangled flesh. Tsuzuki leaned against the wall near where Sakihana sat, his arms crossed, also watching Hisoka calmly.

The empath turned back to the mauling victim. He normally wasn't bothered by the sight of massive injuries either, as he himself had sustained some pretty substantial ones during his tenure as shinigami. The fact that _he_ was charged with healing those injuries, however, sent a nervous quiver into his stomach.

_This is the most extensive test she's given me to date_, he thought, drawing in a deep breath. _I don't want to disappoint her. Or myself._

The young man lying on the futon in front of him was not a real human. He was a sort of high-density holograph, for lack of a better term. A tangible illusion, so to speak. It was a technique Sakihana herself had developed to aid student healers in learning the craft. The injuries on the illusion responded to the student's power the same way identical injuries on a living human would, and sometimes the illusion would react to the healing in adverse ways, as living humans sometimes did. They could scream in pain, or give in to panic, or even try to fight the experience. It was the next best thing to having a real, dying human being in front of him.

"You can do it, Hisoka," he heard Tsuzuki encourage from the sidelines. "And if you don't heal everything this time around, there's always the next test."

Hisoka sighed again. _Thanks for the vote of confidence, jerk._

Kneeling down at the wounded man's side, he reached for the shredded shirt and moved it out of the way. The fabric was so ruined that it didn't take much to tear the remaining scraps and remove it completely. Gaping rents of flesh met his gaze, as if the creature or creatures responsible for the attack had begun eating him before he was even dead.

"A-am I going to die?" a weak, frightened voice suddenly said, drawing Hisoka's attention to the youth's face. His eyes were open, and he had a look of absolute terror, his lower jaw trembling.

"No, you're not going to die," Hisoka said softly, shaking his head. "I'm here to help you."

"It hurts so much...I'm so scared...!" the other boy whined, eyes glistening with tears. He looked to be about the same age as Hisoka, maybe one or two years older. Far too young to die. His whole body was trembling now.

"Just relax," the empath soothed, extending his consciousness into the youth's physical self, assessing the true extent of the damage. "It won't hurt for much longer." He gathered regenerative energy into his hands, preparing to begin the healing process.

He located the worst of the injuries and started there, his eyes closing as he slipped into the semi-trance that often accompanied healing widespread damage. His hands hovered a few centimeters above the victim's skin, the injuries underneath beginning to repair themselves from the inside out. Healing physical wounds was, essentially, a temporary speeding of the wounded one's metabolism, or at least that of the cells surrounding the injury. Cell division was speeded up many times, regrowing and repairing the flesh, bone, nerves, and blood vessels the same way the body would naturally, only much faster. A healing spell also allowed the body to repair itself to a much greater extent than if it had healed unaided, as well as recover from otherwise fatal wounds. An advanced healer could take a totally broken body and repair it to the extent where there was no sign of injury left at all, the victim as whole as if they had never been hurt in the first place. If left to its own devices, the body often didn't completely recover from substantial, non-lethal injuries. Lost body parts, nerve damage, diminished senses, decreased strength, and chronic pain were often the results of a traumatic injury, but a healing spell, wielded by a healer skilled enough, could totally negate those undesirable consequences.

"He's doing quite well," Sakihana said softly to Tsuzuki, her words escaping Hisoka's notice. "I usually don't give a test like this to my students until they're much further along in their training."

Tsuzuki grinned, watching his love with a mixture if affection and pride. "He's our little prodigy."

A drop of sweat trickled down Hisoka's temple after several more minutes. He was beginning to tire, and he still had at least half of the job left-

_SLAM_

"Tsuzuki-san! Kurosaki-kun!"

Hisoka yelped as his concentration was suddenly broken. His patient convulsed and screamed, a sharp flash of Hisoka's spell tearing into him as the empath was startled back into full consciousness.

Sakihana rose to her feet, waving her elegant hand and dismissing the illusion that served as Hisoka's test, which dissolved into the surrounding air like so much water vapor. "What is the meaning of this, Tatsumi-dono?" she demanded, obviously annoyed by the disruption.

Tatsumi Seiichirou stood in the doorway, his hand still on the frame where he had pushed it aside. He looked like he was in an urgent hurry, an air of extreme haste about him. Perhaps he had translocated to the outside of Sakihana's residence and then run through the halls to the training room.

"Forgive me for intruding, Sakihana-sensei," Tatsumi apologized, bowing low to the woman. He himself had never been her student, but he held a great deal of respect for her wisdom and power. "Konoe-kachou has ordered me to retrieve Tsuzuki-san and his partner immediately, even if I have to interrupt Kurosaki-kun's training."

"Oh?" Sakihana said, a single eyebrow arching up. "This must be important indeed if he gave you orders to interrupt _my_ teachings."

"What is it, Tatsumi?" Tsuzuki asked, pushing away from the wall. He looked concerned. Hisoka had stood, having recovered from his shock.

"It's the series of murders you and Kurosaki-kun have been investigating since you returned to field assignments after Kyoto," Tatsumi explained, eyeing the two shinigami gravely. "We've just located another body."

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters. I have a few excuses, though. You can blame it on me still dealing with some personal issues, work being exhausting, my hard drive committing suicide and needing to be rebuilt from scratch, and video games sucking up my free time like a black hole. I've also had some rather large (necessary) expenses lately, which means I've been kinda broke and preoccupied with budgeting every last penny. This tends to make me forget I have fanfiction to work on. I'll have to squeeze in Christmas shopping before long, too. Argh.

Anyway, personal life aside, at least it wasn't eight months again like it was earlier this year. Two and a half months seems like a hop, skip, and a jump in comparison. Eheh.

Speaking of Christmas coming up, I want to warn you guys now that there probably won't be another chapter available until after New Year's. I work in retail, which means I'll be extremely busy for the next several weeks, especially once Thanksgiving comes and goes. If I get chapter seventeen out before December is over, I'll consider it a miracle. So, if I don't see you guys before then (which is likely), Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy New Year, Happy Whatever-It-Is-You-Celebrate. Well wishes for everyone.

Leave a review if you're so inclined. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.


	17. Pallor Mortis

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Many thanks to spiritmind675, Teldra, fugu-chan, Vepirma, and Juu for reading and reviewing chapter sixteen! I'm glad you all (reviewers and non-reviewers) continue to enjoy this story, despite the long wait between chapters. Doumo arigatou gozaimasu.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Seventeen: Pallor Mortis**

"Miyamaru Chikaki...37-year-old female...married, three children..."

Hisoka glanced over at his partner as they neared the crime scene. Tsuzuki was perusing the contents of a file folder Konoe-kachou had given them upon sending them into the field. In it lay a profile and brief biography of the deceased, copied from Enmachou's information archives. Usually they had time to review the info before leaving, as well as decide the best angle to begin the investigation at, but it was unusual for them to get a case so soon after the crime was discovered. They had a chance to see the crime scene itself before it was processed and cleared away by the human authorities, and they didn't want to miss the opportunity.

"You might want to hide that," he commented, indicating the file folder. "It would seem suspicious if we showed up at the crime scene with an official-looking profile on the victim. We're not members of the police, after all. They might ask us where we got the information."

"Right, right," Tsuzuki nodded, closing the folder and handing it to Hisoka, who tucked it into the messenger bag he had brought along. "We're pretending to be private investigators, though. We could say that her employer had given us her file to aid in the investigation."

"Miyamaru-san had no employer," Hisoka reminded him. "She was a housewife, married to a wealthy media executive. It's best to just keep her file out of sight altogether. I'd rather not have to lie any more than we need to, if we can avoid it."

"Uh...yeah," Tsuzuki admitted, a little embarrassed he had missed such a glaring detail. "You're so smart, Hisoka! Better keep that folder hidden!" He patted the messenger bag as it rested against Hisoka's side, earning an appraising look from his younger partner.

"I don't know _how_ you managed to keep your job for so long before I came along," Hisoka muttered with a sigh. The frustration he felt at Tsuzuki's absentmindedness was mixed with affection, however. It was as if he viewed that particular trait not so much annoying anymore as endearing. Hisoka loved Tsuzuki for his flaws just as much as he did for his perfections.

"I don't know either," Tsuzuki shrugged. "I'm amazed I was able to function at all before you came into my life." A smile had settled on his face, warmth in his eyes as he met his partner's gaze.

Hisoka looked away. Now it was _his_ turn to be embarrassed; he had walked right into that one. He had become accustomed to Tsuzuki being more open with his affections since they officially became a couple in that park in Nagasaki. Having the violet-eyed man say such things in public, however, where someone _else_ might hear the endearments, was still enough to make him flush. Hisoka was a very private person, and he doubted that he would ever completely overcome this shyness.

Tsuzuki chuckled as the boy averted his gaze. He was _so cute_! He had to admit that sometimes he made Hisoka blush on purpose just to witness that adorableness.

Turning a corner, the sight of flashing lights and yellow police tape greeted them. There it was, the crime scene. The activity was concentrated around the entrance of an alleyway between two buildings, where the body had been discovered. A crowd of spectators and members of the press had gathered around the perimeter, trying to see what was going on in the alley. The two shinigami attributed it to morbid curiosity. Human beings have a habit of being fascinated with death and murder, despite the fact that they should be repulsed by such things. Some police officers stood near the perimeter, making sure the crowd stayed in line. There had been no attempts to get closer so far, but they were going to err on the side of caution. The discovery of the nude corpse of a wealthy executive's wife in a narrow, damp alleyway was sure to gain a lot of attention, as her disappearance had done in the past ten days, and they couldn't risk the crime scene being contaminated by overeager reporters or nosy spectators. The shinigami could hear some of the reporters badgering the guards to answer questions, but they appeared to have so far been unsuccessful.

"Come on, Asato," Hisoka said, quickening his pace. "I want to find out all that we can here. It's so rare we get to investigate a crime scene firsthand. I don't want this opportunity to pass us by."

"Right," Tsuzuki agreed, and the two of them quickly approached the hubbub. As Tsuzuki had mentioned, they were going under the guise of private investigators, as civilians weren't allowed to enter crime scenes under any circumstances. Identifying themselves as shinigami was out of the question, after all. The chief had given them official-looking badges to support this cover, which suggested that they were employed by a highly-priced agency that catered to wealthy clients. The victim's husband was rich, so it stood to reason that he would hire expensive investigators. They hoped that the police assigned to this case weren't so knowledgeable in private investigation agencies to know that the company name on the badges was fake.

Pushing through the crowd as politely as they could, the two of them eventually stood at the yellow tape that cordoned off the alleyway.

"Excuse me," Tsuzuki called to the closest officer.

Luckily, the man didn't dismiss them as just another couple of curious onlookers and stepped closer. "Yes?"

"I'm Tsuzuki Asato, a private investigator hired by the victim's husband," the older shinigami said, showing the imitation badge to the policeman. As Hisoka did the same, he added, "This is my partner, Kurosaki Hisoka. May we be allowed inside?"

The officer scrutinized the badges. Thankfully, he didn't seem to find anything wrong with them, as he lifted the security tape and allowed them passage. Two female reporters and their cameramen rushed over, peppering the officer with questions as he lowered the tape back down. He stepped back away from the barrier, ignoring them completely.

"Who are you?" a man, apparently the officer in charge, asked them brusquely as they entered the alleyway. Tsuzuki and Hisoka again produced their IDs and told him who they were pretending to be.

Unfortunately, this received a different reaction than before.

"More private investigators?" the head officer asked in mild disbelief.

"Excuse me?" Tsuzuki asked, stopped short.

"Kiba and Shiyu here were hired by the victim's husband when she disappeared a week and a half ago," the officer explained, indicating a man and a woman several feet away. "They've been working with us to find her ever since then. Their client never informed us that he had hired more." He eyed the newcomers suspiciously. "I didn't know he felt he had the need to."

"Uh..." Tsuzuki stammered, at a loss for words. This was certainly _not_ a welcome turn of events. Their rare opportunity to observe a crime scene in progress was quickly flying out the window...

"Forgive us for not informing you of our being hired," Hisoka said suddenly, bowing to the officer. "Miyamaru-san's husband hired us just two days ago. Not that he doubts your abilities, Kiba-san and Shiyu-san." He bowed again, this time to the real private investigators. "In fact, he is very pleased with the efforts you two have put out. Make no mistake of that. My partner and I specialize in unorthodox investigation methods, however. He hired us in order to have all possible bases covered, so his wife could ideally be found more quickly." Straightening up, he gave Kiba and Shiyu a regretful look. "Tsuzuki and I were going to be introduced to you today so that we could all work together. It's so unfortunate that Miyamaru-san lost her life before we could prevent it."

The five people, three humans and two shinigami, looked at each other in silence for a moment. Tsuzuki and Hisoka stood on pins and needles, hoping that their story would be bought. Neither of them wanted this chance to slip through their fingers, and it was very much in danger of doing so.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki-san, Tsuzuki-san," the female private investigator eventually said, apparently having decided that these two strange men were who they said they were. "I'm Shiyu Sorako, and this is my partner, Kiba Kitsuki. It's unfortunate that we couldn't have met under better circumstances."

Hisoka let out the breath he had been holding, careful not to be noticeable about it, and felt a similar rush of relief coming from Tsuzuki. A disaster had narrowly been avoided. He knew very well that their ruse might come back and bite them in the ass. The victim's husband would almost certainly learn of the extra team of investigators he had supposedly hired, hopefully later than sooner. If all went well, he and Tsuzuki would be back in Meifu by then and far away from any fallout.

_Either I'm a more convincing actor then I thought, or she's pretty gullible for a private investigator_, the empath thought. He hoped, for the woman's sake, that it was the former.

Several feet from the alley's entrance was a body covered in a brown tarp. It was far enough from the street that someone casually passing by was very likely not to notice it, but close enough that it would easily be recognized as a human body if they did. It was probable the murderer wanted their victim to be found. Otherwise they would have done a better job of hiding the body.

As the police and the Kiba-Shiyu team went back to what they were doing, Hisoka crouched by the corpse's head, Tsuzuki standing at his side. Gingerly, he lifted up the tarp, exposing the woman's head and shoulders. She was lying facedown on the concrete, her face turned toward him. Her skin was pallid and cold, blue veins easily visible. The moderate level of stiffness in her body indicated that she had been dead for a little while, but not long enough for rigor mortis to reach its peak. Time of death was likely less than twelve hours ago, then.

Hisoka found himself grateful that she didn't have a look of pain or fear on her face. Her eyes were closed, her features relaxed. That coupled with the starkly visible bruising on her neck indicated that she had been strangled, if not to her death than at least to losing consciousness. Examining a corpse was never pleasant, but it was far _less_ pleasant when they were frozen into a study in horror and agony.

"My heart goes out to her husband and children," he heard Tsuzuki say quietly. He could feel sadness coming from his taller partner. A wife and mother had been brutally snatched away from her family, and there was nothing that could be done to reverse it. The two of them were keenly aware of what it was like to lose loved ones, and were no strangers to dealing with the aftermath of other people experiencing that loss as well.

Hisoka nodded, reaching out to pull the tarp back over the woman's head. He took one last look at her face as he did so...

Her eyes suddenly shot open, pupils contracted so harshly they were almost invisible. Life surged back into her body, its deathly pallor disappearing rapidly. The woman sucked in a breath, her back rising drastically as she gasped noisily.

Hisoka yelped in shock and horror, jerking his hand away and trying to scramble backwards. He was all but rooted to the spot, able to do little more than fall clumsily back onto his rear.

A shroud had seemed to fall over everything, everyone around them frozen in place, neither moving nor talking. The sight was distorted and shaky, as if a VCR had been paused. Colors, too, were skewed, making Hisoka think of a puddle of oily water, greasy rainbows swirling here and there among the living statues.

"It's _so_ good to see you again, my dear," a deep voice suddenly said, drawing Hisoka's attention back to the dead woman. The blood drained immediately from his face, his whole body going cold. He felt faint, his vision wavering.

The body lay in the same position as before, but eyes of cold silver now stared up from the woman's face. Her mouth had been twisted into a deranged smile, giving him a look of pure predatory malice. It was a terrible sight to behold, and an agonizingly familiar one.

Hisoka knew immediately who he was looking at. The face was different, black hair framing the expression instead of silver, but those steely eyes, that demented smile...he had seen them many times before.

"_Y-you!_" he choked, hatred boiling up inside of him, making him feel ready to burst. "_MURAKI!_"

"Ah, you recognize me," his enemy grinned. "I'm so glad."

"Shut up!" Hisoka snarled. "Don't even speak, you bastard!"

Muraki chuckled, an unnerving sound. "Oh, my precious doll, it's so gratifying to see that just the sound of my voice is enough to excite you."

"_Enough!_" Hisoka jumped to his feet, staring down at the possessed body with seething rage. He had to physically restrain himself from smashing the sole of his shoe into the twisted face.

"Don't tell me you're surprised to see me," the doctor said chidingly. "You can't expect me to believe you had no idea I was involved in those unsolved cases you have sitting in your desk drawer. You're not stupid, boy. At least I hope you aren't."

The empath stiffened, his eyes widening. Denial. For over a year, he had been deep in denial. He hadn't been ready to accept the possibility that his most hated adversary was active again. But now it had been thrown right into his face. There was no denying it anymore.

Muraki _had_ been the guilty one. Muraki _had_ been working his evil as soon as they had gone back to work. Muraki _had_ been playing with them, taunting them with corpse after cadaver, driving them insane with their inability to bring the case to a close.

Hisoka gave a wordless yell, clutching at his head and falling to his knees. He had been so stubborn...so _stupid_...!

"Oh, my little doll," Muraki sighed, a sick parody of affection in his voice. "It pains me to see you in such distress."

"_Liar!_" Hisoka shot back. "_Don't you fucking lie to me, asshole!_"

"Language, my dear. I didn't know it was possible for such filthy words to come from such a lovely mouth."

"Fuck you! _FUCK YOU!_"

Muraki's voice immediately changed from false concern to lustful malice. "Oh, I'd _love_ to fuck you, boy. Nothing would please me more than to have that pretty little body struggling beneath me. Taking you in dreams is but a poor substitute."

Hisoka choked. The nightmare. It _had_ been a genuine attack. The mad doctor really _had_ raped him the night of his first date with Tsuzuki, just to taint his newfound happiness with the other shinigami. Though their physical bodies had been apart, Muraki had invaded Hisoka's mind with his own, ravaging him just as surely as if he had entered the empath's bedroom. It made no difference whether it was in his head or in his bed. Rape was rape.

"Even so," Muraki continued, "that was a fun little game we played, wasn't it? I've never had sex with someone purely through a mental connection before. It opens up _all sorts_ of possibilities."

"_Don't say another word!_" Hisoka all but shrieked. His fingers ached to wrap around his enemy's throat and squeeze until the life left him, but he knew it was useless. Muraki was speaking to him through the mouth of a dead woman. He wouldn't be harmed in the slightest if Hisoka chose to attack the cadaver.

"Calm yourself, my doll," the surgeon said. "Save your strength for when you really need it. We will meet again soon. Very soon."

Before Hisoka could respond, he felt himself falling. The frozen scene around him shuddered, cracked, and then shattered completely. The empath was flung down into blackness...

"_Hisoka!_"

Tsuzuki's voice suddenly broke through to him, and he jerked fully awake, gasping in shock and still-raging adrenaline.

"A-Asato...!" he managed to stammer, staring wide-eyed into his partner's intensely purple eyes. He was in a half-lying position, as if he had fallen backward from a crouch, Tsuzuki's arms supporting him. Looking around, he saw that he was back in the narrow alleyway, the damp air making him shiver slightly. Several people were staring down at him with varying levels of surprise and concern. Looking at the focus of the investigation, he once again saw a pale, motionless corpse, the woman's face relaxed in death. There was no sign of Muraki or anything else wrong with the body. The boy looked back up at Tsuzuki, confusion in his green eyes.

"You suddenly stiffened up, Hisoka," Tsuzuki explained, answering his partner's unspoken question. "You were about to pull the tarp back over the body when you just...froze. Then you went boneless. You're lucky I managed to catch you."

"H-how long was I like that?" Hisoka asked, feeling his body gradually recovering as the adrenaline levels in his blood began to taper down.

"I'm not totally sure. Between ten and twenty seconds, I think."

Hisoka groaned softly, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. So, his encounter with Muraki had happened within a much shorter period of time than he thought. He must have been partially removed from the flow of time when he was sucked into that strange pocket dimension, allowing him to experience much more in those few seconds than what was normally allowable. After a moment of controlled breathing in an attempt to calm his heart and mind, he abruptly pushed away from his partner and got to his feet.

"Hisoka...?"

"I need some air," Hisoka said shortly, and then quickly exited the confining alleyway. He ducked back under the police tape and elbowed back through the crowd, not bothering to be polite this time as he pushed people aside. He earned some annoyed outbursts in doing this, but he paid no attention to those he offended. Once free, he speed-walked up the sidewalk, away from the whole scene.

"Hisoka!" he heard Tsuzuki call from behind him, the older shinigami quickly catching up. "What happened back there? What did you see?"

"Him," Hisoka said after a moment's pause. "Muraki. I saw Muraki."

Tsuzuki stepped back in surprise, dread instantly upon his face. "Muraki...?"

"He spoke to me through Miyamaru-san's corpse," the empath continued. "He admitted to the murders we've been investigating...and to the nightmare I had that one night." He swallowed, his eyes stinging. "He said that we'll meet again...very soon."

Tsuzuki stared at him, dread having turned to horror. Stepping forward, he put his arms around his trembling partner. Rather, he tried to.

"I have to get out of here, Asato," Hisoka said, pushing Tsuzuki away. "Come with me or don't. I just...I have to get _away_ from here."

Without another word and without waiting for a reaction from Tsuzuki, Hisoka fazed out of sight, translocating back to Meifu. He didn't care at the moment if anyone back at the crime scene happened to see him disappear.

Tsuzuki was left alone on the sidewalk, his arms still raised to embrace his partner. After a moment, he sighed lengthily and turned back toward the crime scene. There were still things he could find out here. He felt he owed it to Hisoka to do as thorough an investigation as he could before heading back.

* * *

Hisoka lifted his teacup to his lips, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid inside. He had been nursing this cup of tea for a long time now, and it was very near cold.

His coworkers had been surprised and concerned when he returned so quickly from the living world, especially since he was without his partner. Questions flew his way, but the only response he could manage was to mumble that he didn't want to talk about anything. He had quickly sequestered himself in one of the smaller, lesser-used meeting rooms, a cup of milk tea in front of him. (Watari had offered to fetch something to relax him, which Hisoka had bluntly refused.) Here he had sat ever since, his jacket and satchel forgotten on the floor near his chair.

For what seemed like the thousandth time, he breathed a deep sigh, rubbing at his temples. Today had started out normally enough. Sakihana-sensei had given him a rather extensive test, and Tsuzuki had been there to watch. Tatsumi had interrupted the test before he could complete it, however, and they had been sent on their way to investigate a fresh crime scene. Hisoka's excitement at the rare opportunity hadn't lasted long, blasted to pieces by the appearance of his most hated enemy. Since then the day had passed him by as he sat buried in his thoughts, barely noticing the minutes and hours ticking away.

His emotions had been seesawing erratically between anger, fear, and hatred, as well as disappointment in himself. All this time, all these many months that they had been investigating this series of unsolved murders, the answer had been staring him in the face the entire time. As Tsuzuki had desperately tried to make him see, all the evidence - largely, the _lack_ of evidence - pointed to one person. Muraki Kazutaka. But Hisoka, tightly wrapped in a shroud of denial and terror, had refused to even acknowledge this as a possibility. Now, he had been forced to see the truth in a shocking, well-nigh traumatic fashion, and the revelation had rocked him to the core. Not that the truth surprised him - far from it - but he just couldn't believe the depths of his self-imposed ignorance, and he hated himself for it.

The door opened, and in walked Tsuzuki.

"Asato," Hisoka said, his voice raspy with disuse and emotion. "You're back."

"I'm back," Tsuzuki nodded, taking a seat next to the empath.

"I'm...sorry for leaving you there...so suddenly."

"It's all right," Tsuzuki said with a dismissive gesture. "If I had had a vision like that, I would have wanted to split, too." He laid a small stack of papers secured with a paperclip on the table between them. "Here are all the notes I took at the crime scene, as well as some information on the case I was able to get from the police and Kiba and Shiyu. You don't have to look over it right now, but I brought it just in case."

Hisoka looked at the papers for a moment, then put a hand on them and drew them over in front of himself. He slipped the paperclip off the corner and started reading through Tsuzuki's notes.

"Evidence of sexual assault...traces of some kind of curse or torture magic...yeah, this fits in with the other ones." He glanced sidelong at his partner. "I hope you didn't let anyone see the part about traces of magic left behind?"

"Of course not," Tsuzuki said, looking a bit put out. "Give me a _little_ credit, Hisoka."

"Sorry," the younger shinigami muttered, looking down.

"Eh...it's okay."

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Hisoka could sense pensiveness within Tsuzuki, but other than that he was hard to read.

Tsuzuki broke the silence. "The others tell me you've been in here since you came back, and you won't talk to anybody."

"Yeah," Hisoka said quietly. "I just didn't want to talk to anyone...and I needed time to think."

"Understandable," Tsuzuki nodded in agreement. "You've had quite a shock today. I'm a little surprised you didn't ask to go home early, to be honest. You'd have more peace and quiet there."

Hisoka leaned back in his chair, folding his arms protectively around himself. "I don't suppose you came to say 'I told you so,'" he muttered after another pause. There was undisguised surliness in his tone.

Tsuzuki looked at him for a moment, surprised and hurt. "I would _never_ do that to you, Hisoka," he finally said, his voice wounded. "What makes you think I would _ever_ sink so low?"

The younger man looked away, ashamed and angry at himself for insinuating such a thing. It was true that Tsuzuki seemed childish and immature at times, but to suggest that he also possessed the meanness often found in children was way out of line. Hisoka was being the mean one here, not Tsuzuki.

"You were right, Asato," he said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "Muraki was the one we were looking for all along. I just refused to see it. I was too damned _scared_ to see it!"

"It's okay, Hisoka," Tsuzuki replied, seeming to forget the insult he had just been given.

"No, it's _not_ okay!" Hisoka snapped. "If I hadn't been so busy cowering in the corner, we might have stopped this long before now! _We could have saved some people's lives!_"

"Don't blame yourself," Tsuzuki said firmly, grasping Hisoka's shoulder and making the boy turn toward him. "We have no idea if that's true or not. Don't beat yourself up over a mere possibility."

"Stop trying to make me feel better, Asato!" the empath said shrilly. Angry tears were glistening in his eyes, one already having escaped down his cheek. "This is my own damned fault, and we both know it! _I'm just a worthless little fuckup, just like my mother said!_"

"_HISOKA!_" Tsuzuki all but roared, startling his partner into silence. He gripped Hisoka by both shoulders, his hold just barely on this side of painful. Making sure the empath was looking him in the eyes, he said with as much sincerity and resolve as he could, "Your parents and how they treated you have _nothing_ to do with this. You've put them and their abuse behind you; _don't_ fall back into believing the lies they told you. I _won't_ let you fall into that trap, Hisoka!"

The green-eyed shinigami stared at his partner, wide-eyed, teeth chattering faintly. After a moment, his expression dissolved into one of anguish, and he brought his hands up to his face as a thin wail emerged from his throat. Turning back to the table as Tsuzuki let go of him, he propped his elbows on the flat surface, crying into his hands. His shoulders were shaking, heaving every once in a while with a particularly hard sob.

Tsuzuki sat there silently, letting Hisoka have his cry. His expression was decidedly moody. Things always seemed to end with one or both of them in tears. He was beginning to wonder if they would ever be able to put their demons to rest-

"_DAMN IT!_" Hisoka suddenly burst out, slamming both fists down. If his cup had been full, the tea inside would have slopped out onto the table. "_I'm so FUCKING sick of this!_"

The older shinigami had jumped and yelped at Hisoka's sudden fit, and he stared at his partner, eyes wide with shock. "S-sick of what?"

"I'm always crying!" the empath clarified, his tears once again angry rather than agonized. "Every little thing makes me break down in tears! I'm _so sick_ of losing control every time something happens!" Hiding his eyes again, he muttered, "You must think I'm such a weakling..."

Tsuzuki looked at the tabletop, a bemused frown on his face. He had no idea that Hisoka had been harboring such a self-deprecating opinion of himself. As much as he loathed his family and upbringing, Hisoka had inherited the Kurosaki pride, no question. It was surprising to hear him speak so lowly of himself.

"You're not weak, Hisoka," he said after a moment, scooting his chair closer and putting an arm around trembling shoulders. "Not by a long shot. You're just going through a lot. A _lot_. Anyone would be reduced to tears if they had to deal with all the things you've had to deal with. Don't feel ashamed."

"Mmph," Hisoka grunted, rubbing at his eyes. He didn't indicate whether he acknowledged Tsuzuki's words or not.

Tsuzuki sighed when he got no other response. Folding his arms and resting them on the table, he let silence descend upon them again. Hisoka's crying had ceased, the only sounds coming from him anymore being an occasional sniffle or cough.

"You need something to cheer you up," he said after a moment. He stood up, a smile suddenly on his face. "I know! It's almost clock-out time. I'll take you home so you can take a bath and relax a while. I can get takeout from the living world while you do that, and when I get back, we can watch some TV together. Maybe have a movie night! What do you say?"

Hisoka looked up at Tsuzuki in surprise. The suggestion to spend the evening together was so sudden. He was at a loss as to how to respond.

"Come on, Hisoka," Tsuzuki prompted. "Sounds like fun, right?"

"Y-yeah..." Hisoka nodded, looking down at his hands, which rested on the table. "I guess so."

"Good! Then let's finish up here and get going." The chocolate-haired man gathered up the papers and clipped them back together, then retrieved Hisoka's jacket and bag from the floor and handed them to the empath.

Hisoka took his belongings and stood up, setting his bag on the table and putting his jacket on as Tsuzuki exited the room. He could tell that his partner wasn't really feeling as cheerful as he was trying to sound, but he could just as clearly tell that Tsuzuki was making a genuine effort to lighten the mood and cheer Hisoka up. It was touching.

Slinging the messenger bag over his shoulder, he followed his partner out the door. Today had been a really bad day, but it hadn't stopped the world from turning. All he could do in the end was set his jaw and continue forward with his life, battling each obstacle as it came to him.

On second thought, relaxing at home with Tsuzuki tonight seemed like a really nice idea.

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Bah. I told you it would be January before I got this chapter posted. Working in retail, the past couple of months have been absolutely exhausting for me. The post-Christmas rush (returns, redeeming gift cards, shopping year-end clearance, etc.) has just now died down, thank the gods. Were getting pretty close to some big important events in this story, however, so I'm hoping I'll be a bit more punctual in updating from now on. Don't bet your life on it, though. We'll just have to wait and see.

I realize that there's more cursing than usual in this chapter, but I think there's a good excuse for it. Hisoka's awfully irritable when it comes to Muraki. I think we can all understand that.

Leave a review if you want (_FEED MY ADDICTION_), and I'll hopefully see you all sometime in the near future with chapter eighteen. Keep your fingers crossed.

P.S. This chapter's title, _pallor mortis_, is a Latin phrase meaning "paleness of death." It's the loss of color present in light-skinned individuals that sets in almost immediately after death. It's one of the stages of death, along with _algor__ mortis_ ("coldness of death"), _livor__ mortis_ ("bluishness of death"), and the more familiar _rigor mortis_ ("stiffness of death").


	18. Dyssomnia

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks again to spiritmind675, Riaries, fugu-chan, Teldra, and Juu for reading and reviewing chapter seventeen! I'm hoping the seeming disappearance of a few formerly regular reviewers doesn't mean they've lost interest in this story. That would suck.

Ahem, on with the show...

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Eighteen: Dyssomnia**

"_ORDER NOW AND WE'LL DOUBLE THE OFFER..._"

Hisoka stirred, giving a small groan of discomfort. His head was hanging at an odd angle, making his neck ache when he tried to lift it. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly, letting out a wide-mouthed yawn and reaching up over his head to stretch. He was on his couch, and the TV was playing a late-night infomercial. Whatever was being sold wasn't entirely clear at the moment, but Hisoka didn't particularly care to find out.

Shifting in his seat to sit a little more upright, he looked to his left and beheld his slumbering partner. Ah, that's right. Tsuzuki had spent the previous evening with him, the two of them spending most of their time on the couch watching TV as Tsuzuki had suggested. "Watching TV" consisted mainly of flipping from one channel to another, watching some of this show here and some of that movie there, most of the time spent either making fun of what they were seeing or arguing over whether it was any good or not (one of them insisting it was, the other questioning why). Sometimes they ignored the TV completely, instead talking about something totally unrelated or looking through one of Hisoka's coffee table books together. They hadn't watched a single complete episode or movie the whole evening, but Hisoka didn't mind.

"_BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE..._"

Hisoka huffed, annoyed. He had been gazing intently at Tsuzuki's slouched form, taking in every detail his eyes landed on, but then the pitchman in the infomercial had broken his reverie. Searching for the remote, he found it stuck between two couch cushions and quickly hit the power button. The TV screen immediately went black.

Placing the remote on the coffee table, the empath pushed up to his feet, reaching up again to stretch his whole body, his back slowly arching forward as a low groan came from his throat. His arms dropped limply to his side as he finally relaxed, a satisfied sigh escaping his lungs. He felt much better now. He always did after a long, slow, full-body stretch like that.

On the coffee table were several small white boxes. True to his word, Tsuzuki had gone to the living world for takeout as Hisoka relaxed in the bath after work, and had found a little Chinese place that seemed promising. Napkins both used and clean lay scattered among the boxes, as well as two pairs of plain wooden chopsticks, though one stick had rolled off onto the carpet. Two glasses sat on coasters on either side of the mess, the drinks inside watered down with melted ice cubes. Hisoka's coffee table books had been moved underneath the table for protection, as he wanted to keep them looking nice. Eating off of said books was no way to do that.

Gathering up the napkins, chopsticks, and mostly empty food boxes, he shuffled into the kitchen, toed open the door of the lower cabinet that held the garbage can, stepped on the pedal that opened the can lid, and dropped everything inside. He returned to the living room for the two glasses and carried them into the kitchen as well, dumping their contents into the sink. Rinsing them out, he set them next to the sink with a few other dirty dishes to be washed tomorrow.

Scratching at a dry patch on his scalp, he yawned. That's one good thing about getting takeout. Cleanup is easy.

Back in the living room, he put the remote control in its place next to the TV, then turned and looked at Tsuzuki again. The older shinigami was in the same position as before, his left hand precariously supporting his head as his elbow rested on the arm of the couch. His left ankle was lying across his right knee, his body at a slant. Though his head and shoulders were against the back of the couch, he had slid down so his rear end was perched on the edge of the cushion. He was apparently comfortable enough to sleep, but the whole picture screamed of awkwardness.

_What am I going to do with you?_ Hisoka wondered silently. _I can't just leave you there like that._

After thinking a brief moment, he turned and trotted into his bedroom, opening his closet and searching for the spare pillow and blanket he knew he had. Finding them, he returned to the couch and plopped the pillow down on the end opposite Tsuzuki, then began maneuvering his partner's sleeping form into a lying position, careful to get his head on the pillow instead of the not-quite-as-soft couch arm. It was a difficult process, as Tsuzuki, though not a very large man, still noticeably outsized Hisoka, and the empath didn't want to wake the older shinigami if he could avoid it. The fact that unconsciousness turned a person into nothing but dead weight didn't help.

"Mmm...Hisoka...?" Tsuzuki muttered as Hisoka finally succeeded in laying him down. His eyes fluttered open, revealing sleepy purple irises.

"Shhh," Hisoka shushed him, smoothing strands of chocolate-brown hair away from those eyes. "It's okay, Asato. You can sleep here tonight. I'm not going to send you home at this hour."

"What time is it?" Tsuzuki asked, yawning widely.

Hisoka looked at the clock, as he himself didn't know. "It's almost two o'clock in the morning," he answered. He turned back to his partner. "Are you comfortable enough? Do you need anything?"

"Nah, I'm fine," the older man said, relaxing back into the pillow. "It's warm here, and I like your couch. It's cushy." The couch was indeed rather plush, as Hisoka liked having somewhere comfortable to lounge while reading, and it was long enough that Tsuzuki wasn't forced to curl up uncomfortably.

The younger shinigami chuckled affectionately, draping the blanket over Tsuzuki. He placed a tender kiss at the corner of his beloved's mouth as he did so.

"Good night, Asato," he said softly, standing up to go to his own bed. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks, Hisoka," Tsuzuki sighed, clearly sinking back into sleep already, his words slightly slurred. Indeed, he hadn't been completely awake while speaking with his younger partner. He'd be sound asleep again in no time.

Yawning, Hisoka headed toward his bedroom, turning the living room light off on his way. As he flipped the light switch to the "off" position, however, he heard Tsuzuki mumble one last thing before dropping off completely.

"...love you..."

Hisoka smiled, warmth blooming in his chest.

"I love you, too, Asato," he whispered.

* * *

Hisoka's eyes opened, easily and without surprise or fear. It was as if he had just finished blinking, or perhaps had closed his eyes in thought for a moment. There was nothing from his actions to indicate anything unusual.

Looking around himself, though, he realized that his situation was quite the opposite. Sitting up, he took in his surroundings, quickly assessing his circumstances. He was in what appeared to be a void of sorts, no ceiling, walls, or floor discernable around him. He had been lying on something that felt solid, but looking beneath himself, he seemed to be floating in nothingness, no surface or reflection meeting his eyes.

All around him a kind of red-magenta mist or fog swirled slowly. Despite there being nothing material around him, his depth perception apparently hadn't suffered. The miasma appeared to be moving faster immediately around him, while beyond that it gradually slowed until it seemed to stand still a fair distance away.

_I'm dreaming_, he thought, warily getting to his feet. _I must be._ He clearly remembered changing into a tank top and light sweat pants, then climbing into bed a moment later. He had barely let his consciousness drift away into slumber when he found himself here, fully clothed again and most definitely _not_ in his apartment.

He swallowed, feeling his nerves begin to crackle. Normally his dreams were hazy and confused, like most people's, a mishmash of memories and imaginings that make perfect sense as he's dreaming, but then make no sense at all once he's awake again. After a few moments of wakefulness, they tended to fade into nothingness, only a few key points remaining to be recalled. There was only one recurring dream where he was aware that he was dreaming, and that stayed with him long after waking up.

_Well...now it's two_, he thought sourly, as the nightmare he had endured the night of his and Tsuzuki's first date had been different enough from the norm to consider it a separate dream altogether. Nevertheless, whenever he was aware that he was dreaming, and the dream was of such stunning clarity, Muraki Kazutaka was invariably not far behind.

"Show yourself," he suddenly called into the void. "I know you're watching me, Muraki."

A low chuckle answered him, and suddenly a familiar, white-clad figure was there, off to his right.

"Are we so eager to see me, my lovely?" the doctor purred, smiling rapaciously as he gazed upon his favored prey.

"Don't flatter yourself," Hisoka growled, turning to face him. "I sense a pattern here. Whenever I spend time just enjoying Asato's company, you're going to show up in my dreams later and spoil it for me? How crass."

Muraki brought a hand up to his chin, tapping the smooth, clean-shaven skin as if in thought. "True, it _does_ seem to be becoming a pattern, though I didn't have the intention until just now. Are you suggesting that I do that? I know how you _ache_ to see me, after all."

Hisoka hissed, showing just how thrilled he was with the idea. The curse marks were tingling, emerging across his skin with Muraki's proximity.

"So, are you going to rape me now?" he asked, fear and anger mingling in his voice. "Is that your plan? To throw in my face that you 'own' me by ravaging my body yet again?"

Muraki answered with a question of his own. "Is that an invitation?" His silver-blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "It certainly is tempting. I could throw you down and ravish you right here. No matter how hard you fight, you are like a butterfly beating its wings against a stone wall. I could have my way with you with little or no effort at all. Both of our previous encounters were thus, my pet. I have no reason to believe that another would be any different."

Hisoka shuddered, gritting his teeth. Muraki was right. Neither incidence had required much physical effort on the doctor's part. At thirteen, Hisoka had been scrawny and frail, offering no resistance at all despite his frantic struggles. The recent nightmare, though he had been older and stronger as he was now, hadn't been much different, Muraki overwhelming him simply with his presence and a little brute force. Indeed, the flare-up of the curse had been enough to nearly immobilize him all by itself. Hisoka had declared to Tsuzuki that he would fight with everything he had should it happen again, but now he doubted himself. Could he _really_ fight back, or was he truly helpless to resist whatever the surgeon had in store for him? Would he be forced to submit without any actual _force_?

"On the other hand," Muraki continued, "I could invoke the curse instead. You know, it does grant me a certain amount of control over you, should I call upon it. I could make you lie down and spread your legs, begging me to violate you. You'd be a willing partner, a perfect picture of want and lust. Your pretty little body would be wrapped around mine rather than fighting against me. Doesn't that sound nice?"

The boy stepped back, bile rising in his throat. He wouldn't be able to stand it if Muraki did that. Briefly submitting to pleasure while being raped was humiliating enough. Going through the entire act as a willing partner with no way to resist would be just too much for him to handle. It may very well break him if he were forced to endure it.

"I haven't done that yet," the taller man went on, "because I _do_ so love to have you struggle. Your screaming terror during our first encounter, your helpless fury during our second...you should _see_ yourself, my doll, _burning_ in all of your blazing passion! Such a partner I have never been fortunate enough to ensnare before or since."

"Enough!" Hisoka snapped. He didn't want to hear about how irresistible the doctor found him. It made him feel unbelievably filthy, not to mention nauseated.

Muraki suddenly moved, changing position so fast that he seemed to disappear and reappear again right next to Hisoka. A strong arm encircled the boy's waist, pressing their bodies together, the surgeon's other hand gently tilting Hisoka's chin up so the shinigami would meet his eyes.

"Let me go!" Hisoka yelped in shock, trying to throw himself backward. Muraki's arm around his waist prevented that, making him snarl in frustration.

Muraki ignored his protests. "Indeed, if my heart didn't already belong to Tsuzuki-san, I would take _you_ as a proper lover. Having such a lovely boy in my bed every night would be _most_ pleasurable." His lips then sealed themselves over Hisoka's in a bruising kiss, tongue thrusting greedily into the empath's mouth. A low growl emanated from his throat as he claimed the kiss, assaulting Hisoka's mouth without any consideration at all for the boy in his arms.

Hisoka choked, struggling madly. As the doctor had said, his flailing was all but useless against Muraki's superior strength. He finally managed to wedge his hands between their chests and gave Muraki a mighty shove, breaking the kiss and the embrace at the same time. Stumbling back with the force of the push, he nearly fell backward onto his ass. Only luck saved him from embarrassing himself.

Muraki had let him go. There was no way Hisoka could have broken the doctor's hold so easily if he hadn't been deliberately released.

The honey-blond shinigami dragged his sleeve across his lips, trying to wipe away the feel of Muraki's mouth against his own. He then spat to the side, showing just how disgusted he was by the kiss. The unwelcome touch still burned on his skin, but at least he had shown Muraki his uncompromised defiance.

"You don't love Asato," he sneered as he regained his composure. "You only lust after him. That _isn't_ love." Standing up straighter, he looked unflinchingly into Muraki's mismatched eyes. "Asato will _never_ accept you. You will _never_ have him!" Protective possessiveness was surging through him. Tsuzuki loved _him_, Kurosaki Hisoka, _not_ Muraki Kazutaka. The older shinigami would _never_ give in to the mad doctor's desires. The very idea was patently absurd.

His tormentor laughed. He seemed to be quite amused by Hisoka's declaration. One white hand came up to hide his grinning lips, as if humbly shielding Hisoka from the uncouth sight of his open, laughing mouth.

"What's so funny?" Hisoka demanded, annoyed by his enemy's mirth.

"Such a charming boy," Muraki said when he managed to regain control. He was still smiling widely as he spoke. "What makes you think I haven't had him already?"

Hisoka went cold, eyes widening. The doctor's simple question was like a glass of ice water in the face. His heart began to suddenly pound in his chest. "W-what do you mean?"

"You are _so_ naïve. _Think_ about it, dearest. I had your beloved Asato in my lab for three days. Three _days_. All the while, he was the perfect living doll. Quiet and passive and completely complacent with everything I did." Muraki's smile turned predatory. "Surely it must have crossed your mind at least _once_ that I may have acted upon my urges?"

_No_, Hisoka thought desperately, a cold sweat having broken out over his skin. _No, it can't be! Not Asato!_

"Tell me you didn't," he said out loud, speaking through clenched teeth. He was trembling hard, and only gritting his teeth prevented them from chattering. "You sick fuck! _Tell me you didn't do it!_"

Muraki laughed again. "Oh my sweet, you are _so_ easy to get worked up. Such a passionate creature you are."

"_Muraki!_" Hisoka snarled, his flingers flexing as if aching to grip his enemy's throat. His eyes were blazing with emerald fire. He looked ready to launch himself at the doctor at any second.

It was Muraki, however, who closed the distance between them. "I'll leave you to think that over. You'll be occupied with it for a _long_ time, I wager." Again, he leaned down and pressed their lips together, taking a kiss as if he had every right to it. He pulled away only a second later, however, chuckling as Hisoka spluttered in rage and revulsion.

"Muraki!" Hisoka cried again as the surgeon began to fade into nothingness. "You asshole! Come back here! If you've so much as _touched_ Asato, I'll-"

Something seemed to break in his head. The world, such as it was, spun around him, and he collapsed to the invisible floor like a rag doll. As his vision quickly dissolved into blackness, the last thing he saw was Muraki's evanescent smile, mocking him.

_Asato..._

* * *

"GYAH!"

Hisoka jerked awake, his eyes flying open with a gasp. For a moment he lay there, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, breathing hard through his mouth. After a moment, he groaned softly and brought his hands up to rub at his eyes, scrubbing the lingering sleepiness away.

Sitting up slowly, he dropped his head into his hands, hunching over his lap, trying to bring his breathing under control. He was shaking as if cold, and reflexively brought his hands away from his eyes to rub along his upper arms.

He had just had a dream about Muraki again. He hadn't been raped - thank the gods for that - but Muraki hadn't let him go unscathed, wantonly groping and kissing him.

_What was the dream for?_ he wondered, sitting up again and staring into the darkness. _Did he drag me there just to molest me and then suggest he's already had sex with Asato?_ A flood of rage overtook him at that thought. Just the idea of Muraki taking advantage of Tsuzuki in his helpless state, the shinigami unable to fight back, was intolerable.

The one thing that allowed Hisoka to bear Muraki's obsession with his partner with any measure of dignity was Tsuzuki's avoidance of it. Despite the sheer depths of the obsession, despite the occasional unwelcome touch or kiss, Tsuzuki had remained physically unattainable to the demented surgeon. He had never allowed himself to become a victim like Hisoka had. But if Muraki had raped him during those three days of captivity, then that sense of safety that Hisoka had, the security of knowing that Tsuzuki had never fallen under Muraki's sexual thrall, was shattered. They would both be victims, violated to their core.

_Did he...did he really...?_ Hisoka thought, feeling his chest tighten. In all honesty, the pale doctor hadn't come out and actually said for certain that he'd taken advantage of Tsuzuki. All he had done was suggest the possibility that he had, but that was enough to rattle Hisoka. The sick desire he held for Tsuzuki could easily have compelled him to take the unprecedented opportunity, having his way with the dark-haired shinigami as he lay helpless and vulnerable. On the other hand, Muraki's penchant for sadistic mind games meant that he very well could be planting false suspicions in Hisoka just so he could watch the boy squirm in anxiety.

The more he thought about it, the harder it was to determine which possibility was more likely. Eventually, he hit both fists against the mattress in frustration, throwing the covers back and walking stiffly into the bathroom. There he splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to calm his mind, leaning over the sink and wishing every manner of bloody death upon his rapist, muttering a string of curses as he did so.

Drying his face off, he exited the bathroom and went to the door of his bedroom, opening it and looking out into the living room. There, in the dim light, he could see Tsuzuki lying motionless on the couch, sleeping soundly. The older shinigami lay on his right side, his left hand resting on the pillow next to his face. He was breathing slowly and quietly, and if he was dreaming, he showed no sign of it. It was a peaceful sight, one that calmed Hisoka considerably.

Quietly walking out into the darkened room, Hisoka sat down on the floor between the couch and coffee table, his back against the front edge of the couch cushions. This close, he could hear Tsuzuki's breathing, smell his familiar scent. Instead of relaxing him further, the sensations sent an arrow of apprehension into Hisoka's gut, making the empath swallow dryly. Bending his knees up, he rested his elbows on them and laced his fingers together in front of his face, leaning his forehead against his hands. He was trembling.

"Please tell me nothing happened," he whispered bleakly. "Please tell me he never hurt you that way."

Several anxious minutes passed, worry for Tsuzuki and wrath directed at Muraki freely mingling within him. No tears fell, but he came very close to it a few times.

_I just couldn't stand it if he's had you, too..._

Belatedly, he realized that he had been hearing movement on the couch behind him. Tsuzuki, it seemed, was waking up.

"Hisoka...?" the older man asked through a yawn, an arm winding around Hisoka's shoulders from behind. The younger shinigami could feel his partner's warm breath as he brushed his lips against the boy's temple in a soft kiss. "Whatcha doin' down there? You feelin' all right?"

"I'm okay," he replied, lowering his hands from his eyes. "I'm fine."

"So, what're you doing out here?" Tsuzuki asked, his voice stronger, though still a little sleep-addled. "Couldn't sleep?"

Hisoka hesitated a moment in answering. When he did, he spoke clearly but quietly. "I had a dream about Muraki again."

The arm around his shoulders disappeared, and he heard the sounds of Tsuzuki sitting up behind him. "And?" That one word was much more awake than what he had said up until now.

"He...he didn't rape me this time, thank the gods...but I know that Muraki himself was contacting me. It wasn't just a random dream."

"So...what happened?" Tsuzuki asked cautiously when he didn't say any more.

"Nothing, really. We just...talked." That was a gross understatement, as more than just _talking_ had happened. Hisoka wasn't too keen on discussing the other stuff at the moment.

"What was said?" Tsuzuki placed a hand on Hisoka's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hisoka was silent at first. When he answered, it was in a whisper. "I'd...rather not. Not so soon. Maybe later, but not right now."

"That's okay," Tsuzuki said, squeezing Hisoka's shoulder. "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't push you."

Hisoka sighed, relaxing a little. "Thank you."

Tsuzuki smiled, leaning down to place a gentle kiss into Hisoka's hair. Upon straightening again, he squinted up at the clock on the wall above the TV, managing to find the hands in the dim light. "It's still a few hours before we have to get up," he said. "We should try to get some more sleep, or we'll pay for it later at work."

"Yeah," Hisoka nodded. "I don't think it'll be very easy for me to fall asleep again, though."

"Hmm..." Tsuzuki seemed to be thinking, then he let go of his partner's shoulder and sat back, picking the pillow up. "Come on up here, Hisoka."

Hisoka looked over his shoulder as Tsuzuki plunked the pillow down on the other end of the couch, propping it half against the arm, half against the back. The older shinigami scooted over so his back was against the pillow, then reached over and snagged the blanket as if to pull it up over himself.

"Come on, I'm not gonna bite." He held his hand out to his younger partner, beckoning him to join him on the couch.

The boy hesitated a moment longer, then reached out and took Tsuzuki's hand. With his partner's help, he hoisted himself up onto the cushions, suddenly finding himself surrounded by the other man's presence.

Tsuzuki was half lying, half sitting along about half the couch's length, his head resting against the back above the top edge of the pillow. As Hisoka climbed up from the floor, he gently coaxed the younger shinigami to lie next to him, one of Tsuzuki's arms around him and his head resting on the larger man's chest.

"There, comfy?" he asked, smiling down at the empath.

"Yeah," Hisoka sighed, squirming a bit to make himself more comfortable. "You're so warm, Asato."

Tsuzuki chuckled, pulling the blanket up over both of them.

"You sure this is okay, us sleeping so close?" Hisoka asked, looking up at his partner.

"Of course," Tsuzuki replied. He raised a hand to run his fingers through Hisoka's hair. "I do want to be with you very much, Hisoka, but now is not the time. Not after a dream about Muraki. I can sleep next to you without falling prey to my baser urges. I'm more in control than that."

Hisoka felt a flash of uneasiness. Acting upon one's urges. Muraki had spoken about that very thing, indicating that he had taken liberties with Tsuzuki during those three days he held the shinigami captive. Questions burned in Hisoka's mind, but his throat was blocked. How could he ask if it were true? Excuse me, Asato, but Muraki suggested that he'd fucked you down in his lab. Would you be so kind as to confirm or deny it?

No, he could never ask him that. Not until he figured out the best way to broach the subject, at least. Assuming he ever worked up the courage to seek the truth about this, that is.

"You okay, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Does this make you nervous?"

"No, it's fine," Hisoka said, shaking his head. "I believe you, Asato, and I trust you. Most of all, your presence is comforting." He lay his head back down on Tsuzuki's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat. "I could easily sleep here in your arms."

Tsuzuki smiled down at the top of Hisoka's head. "Then I hope you sleep well." Shifting slightly, he relaxed back against the pillow, sighing deeply. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts drift slowly back into unconsciousness, gradually falling back into slumber. His arm was curled protectively around Hisoka, holding the younger man in a gentle embrace.

Hisoka stayed awake longer, staring with half-lidded eyes into the darkness. He let Tsuzuki's presence enfold him, relaxing into the gentle sensation of a sleeping mind. The man's scent filled his nostrils, his warmth surrounding his body. Thrumming underneath it all was Tsuzuki's love for his young partner, a soothing sensation unlike any other Hisoka had known.

The man holding him was immeasurably precious to him. But still, the empath found it difficult to lower his inner shields and let him in completely. Even after accepting and returning Tsuzuki's love, a part of him remained closed off. He was still keeping his love at arms' length, still unable to fully allow another person to get close to him.

_Keep your faith in me, Asato_, he thought, closing his eyes. _Keep being patient with me. Someday...someday, I'll let you in..._

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** My excuse this time is illness. Dealing with two infections at once (either a bad cold or mild flu, plus a UTI) really sucks the life out of a person. I haven't been so sick in a _long_ time. But, I'm all better now, and I've finally written this chapter. Yay.

The last scene really put up a fight. For some reason it was difficult to write, even though I knew exactly how I wanted it to go. I'm hoping it turned out well, despite the struggle it gave me.

As always, leave a review if you wish (pretty please), and I'll see you all next time with chapter nineteen. Love and peace to everyone.

P.S. Dyssomnia is a category of sleep disorders, but because it literally translates into "bad sleep," I figured it was a good word to describe Hisoka's nocturnal encounters with Muraki. Not medically accurate, but oh well. Creative license, people. Creative license.


	19. Fatal City

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Once again, thank you to Meyham, fugu-chan, Vepirma, Riaries, Juu, and Tarmachan for reading and reviewing chapter eighteen! I also thank reviewers and non-reviewers alike for the patience you guys have shown me in waiting for updates. Lord knows I have a habit of trying one's patience in that respect. Bad me.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Nineteen: Fatal City**

"Come on, hurry up!" Hisoka commanded, gripping a sleeve and tugging forward one of the humans he was charged with protecting. "_Move_ it!"

"B-but," the girl stammered, "Ts-Tsuzuki-san-"

"He'll be fine!" Hisoka all but yelled. "_Go!_"

The two humans took off running, Hisoka trailing after them and keeping an eye to the rear, making sure no threats came upon them from behind. His sword was gripped tightly in his right hand, ready to fend off danger if need be.

He and Tsuzuki were currently in central Kyushu, a few miles outside of the prefectural city of Kumamoto. The barriers between the living world and Hell were wearing extremely thin around a modestly-sized soy farm, and the two shinigami had been sent there to discern the cause and reverse the changes. The cause was easy to figure out, as they soon discovered that the farmer's twin children, college students home for summer break, were taking the demonology segments of their world religions studies just a little too seriously. They had begun invoking devils and demons of various faiths, trying to find out which theologies were true and which were not. Unfortunately, their endeavors hadn't determined which schools of thought were true and which were false; rather, they simply caught the attention of the Otherworld's less savory inhabitants.

The Tsutsumi twins had been, up until now, completely unaware of this. They hadn't had a single successful "summoning," and as living humans they lacked the supernatural senses needed to detect the deterioration of the barriers between the worlds. They were just about to give up on their little project, in fact.

Tsuzuki and Hisoka had arrived on the scene just in the nick of time. Barely a day after introducing themselves to the college students and explaining the serious consequences of their experiments, the situation suddenly exploded out of control. A trio of demons had managed to rip a hole in the weakest point of the interdimensional barrier and escape into the human world. This is where Hisoka found himself running through the undeveloped, sparsely-wooded area to the north of the soy farm, ordered by Tsuzuki to get the two young humans out of danger while he stayed behind to eliminate the threat.

"What were you _thinking_, going back to the place we had performed the rituals?" Tsutsumi Momoko screeched, frantic beyond imagining. "What did you _do_ there?"

"I didn't do _anything_!" her brother, Tsutsumi Atsushi, hollered back. "I just showed up there, and then everything started happening at once!"

Hisoka grimaced. He, Tsuzuki, and Momoko had just barely realized that Atsushi was absent from the farmhouse when Hisoka sensed a sharp spike of demonic energy coming from the direction of the place the twins had performed their séances. They had rushed as fast as they could to the makeshift shrine - Momoko refused to be left behind - and had arrived just as the first of the demons finally managed to force its way through the impromptu portal it had created. At Tsuzuki's command, Hisoka had snapped the stunned Atsushi out of his stupor and fled with the two humans, summoning his sword to his hands as they went. Tsuzuki had stayed behind to confront the demonic newcomers, much more skilled in combat than his younger partner.

"Get back to the house," he instructed the twins as they ran. "I can defend you much better there than out in the open." He kept his voice level this time. The college students were both on the verge of panicking, and Hisoka didn't want to add to their distress by seeming frantic himself.

"Hai!" Momoko and Atsushi answered simultaneously, running as fast as they could toward the farm.

A sudden surge of magic erupted behind them, powerful enough that it was a wonder the humans didn't sense it. An unearthly roar rumbled throughout the landscape, the low vibrations penetrating to Hisoka's very bones. Glancing behind him, he saw a huge, silvery-blue dragon rising above the trees. An intense battle-aura surrounded its majestic form, making the air itself shiver and crackle.

"What is _that_?" Atsushi yelped. Both he and his sister were gaping awestruck at the dragon, eyes wide in shock and surprise.

"That's Sohryu," Hisoka said. "Tsuzuki must have summoned him."

"Tsuzuki-san can summon the...?" Atsushi trailed off, unable to complete the question

"_Yes_, he can summon the Lord of the Dragons!" Hisoka snapped, becoming impatient. "We'll tell you _all about it_ afterwards, now get going!" He pointed his sword at the humans, showing he meant business.

The Tsutsumi siblings took off running again, Hisoka bringing up the rear. It was just a few seconds later that Sohryu unleashed his attack. Shockwaves rippled outward, striking the young shinigami with such force that he half expected to be thrown forward. He kept his feet, however, and continued his flight with the two humans.

_They must have been powerful indeed for Asato to summon _Sohryu_ to combat them_, he thought, dread worming its way through his guts. That demons so dangerous had broken through into the human world simply because of two amateur occultists was horrifying. Imagine what a _skilled_ one would be able to do...

A sudden, distinct whistle reached Hisoka's ears, and his body twisted around before his brain could fully process what he was hearing. He struck out with his sword, intercepting a projectile as it sang through the air towards him. The object broke in two with a snap, the pieces flying apart and hitting the ground to either side of him. A fraction of a second later, a second projectile sped past him, nicking his ear as it passed.

A howl of pain from Atsushi quickly followed.

Hisoka cursed, realizing what had just happened. A black-feathered arrow was lodged in the back of Atsushi's left calf, effectively laming him. Blood trickled from the wound, dripping down to the dry grass below. An identical arrow lay on the ground nearer to Hisoka, broken into two pieces.

Raising his eyes to the sky, colored orange with the setting sun, Hisoka saw a _fourth_ demon hovering in the air a short distance away. A jet-black, intricately-carved bow was in its hands, a third arrow nocked and ready to pull back and fire.

"You aren't one of the three I saw emerge from the portal," he said, his sword held in front of him in a defensive stance. Behind him, Momoko bent over her brother's wound, frantic in her worry.

"You're right, I'm not," the demon replied. "I managed to slip through before it closed again, and by then you were gone and my three compatriots were getting their asses beat by your partner and his pet."

"Sohryu wouldn't take kindly to you calling him a pet," Hisoka admonished.

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't," the demon shrugged, "but he willingly follows the commands of a dead human as if he were nothing more than a trained monkey. Some _lord_ he is."

"The relationship between Tsuzuki and his shikigami is far more complex than you'll ever realize." Hisoka's body shifted into an offensive stance. "Now, are you going to come down here and fight me, or are you going to just hover around out of my reach like a coward?"

"Them's fightin' words," the demon grinned, all sharp teeth and red gums. "Maybe you're worth my time after all."

_This demon has a massive superiority complex_, Hisoka thought, his scowl deepening. _How annoying._

The demon replaced the arrow in its quiver and slung the bow over its left shoulder. Pulling a barbed dagger from a thigh-sheath, it threw a challenge down to the shinigami. "Well? Come on up here and get what's coming to you."

Hisoka was just about to respond to the challenge and launch himself into the air toward his adversary, but he pulled up short when the sky behind the demon was suddenly full of Shikigami Lord.

The empath's mouth dropped open in surprise, and he heard a squeak from Momoko and an exclamation from Atsushi as they, too, noticed Sohryu's unexpected presence. To see a dragon from a distance was one thing; to have him hovering directly over you was _quite_ another.

"What the...?" the demon snarled, finding itself in shadow. It whirled around indignantly, only to find itself face-to-face with the shikigami it had just gravely insulted.

"I _thought_ I saw one get past me!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, catching up with the Dragon King. "Good work finding him, Sohryu!"

"You're the shinigami who summoned this dragon," the demon growled. "The whelp down there called me a coward for using arrows instead of fighting hand-to-hand, and yet his _own partner_ summons magical beasts to fight for him instead of doing his own dirty work! How laughable!"

"'Whelp'?" Hisoka repeated, frowning. His pride flared at the offense.

"There's nothing wrong with asking for help from my friends," Tsuzuki countered, "especially if human lives are at stake. Besides, it was three-against-one back there. I just evened the odds a little bit."

Sohryu hovered above and behind Tsuzuki, awaiting the shinigami's orders.

"So, do you have the guts to take me on yourself?" the demon asked. "If you're so powerful, then show me."

Tsuzuki suddenly had a fuda in his hand. "Gladly," he grinned.

The demon had left its back wide open to Hisoka. The message it conveyed was clear: Hisoka was seen as anything but a threat. The demon saw no harm in turning its back to the younger shinigami, for it didn't take Hisoka seriously as an opponent. It may as well have turned its back on a box of kittens.

Hisoka's pride burned even hotter at this. Being called a whelp - a puppy - was bad enough, but to be blown off as harmless was like lemon juice in his eye. It was always like this. Tsuzuki was _always_ the one to watch out for, while his young, inexperienced partner could be ignored. Hisoka's eternally teenaged face only exacerbated the idea that he posed no threat to his enemies.

The younger shinigami had always been resentful of this assumption people made about him, but now it boiled over out of control. This was just one time too many that he had been brushed off without a thought, and he wasn't going to stand back and take it anymore. He was jealous - yes, jealous - of the respect their enemies showed Tsuzuki, the respect they completely deprived Hisoka of. It was time to change that.

_I'll show you a thing or two_, he thought heatedly, dismissing his sword into the "arms locker" in his mind, a sort of pocket dimension (Watari called it "hammerspace") that he had created for his weapons. Extracting his bow from that same space, but not his arrows, he stomped over to Atsushi and Momoko, crouching down next to the wounded man. _It's gonna have to come out sooner or later..._

"I'm sorry, Atsushi-san," he said. "I'll fix it in a minute." Without further preamble, he gripped the black arrow shaft and jerked it out of Atsushi's leg. He forced himself not to react to Atsushi's shriek of pain, nor to Momoko's cry of dismay. As the young woman pressed her hand to the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding, Hisoka turned back around, nocking the arrow and closing his emerald eyes. Murmuring an incantation his teacher had made him practice so many times it was now intuitive, he felt an exorcising spell surge downward from the power center between his eyes into his hands, and from his hands into the arrow, coalescing around the bloodied head. A pale green light began to glow there, swirling around the arrowhead like a mist.

_Turn and face me, you coward!_ Hisoka snarled mentally, sending his challenge directly into the demon's mind, showing just how serious he was. Telepathy was another of the psychic abilities he had just recently begun to develop. He pulled the arrow back as far as the bowstring allowed, aiming to kill.

The demon stiffened noticeably, having no choice but to "hear" the silent command. However, much to Hisoka's annoyance, it did not yet turn its attention back to the younger shinigami.

Tsuzuki went still as well. Though he could not discern the words, as he was not the intended recipient, he knew that some communication had passed between his partner and the demon. Looking down at Hisoka, he just barely stifled a gasp at what he saw. Some kind of spell roiled at the end of the empath's arrow, and besides that, the boy had a look of rage upon his ever-young face. The sight was enough to give anyone pause.

_I said TURN!_ Hisoka threw the full weight of his anger into the order, and the air between him and the demon seemed to crackle with the intensity.

"Fine, fine, what do you _want_?" The demon finally turned around, returning its attention to the empath. Black eyes met green.

_TNG_

The arrow flew forward from Hisoka's fingers, slicing through the air as if from a crossbow. The perfectly-aimed projectile struck the demon in the chest, penetrating its heart with deadly accuracy. With a near-blinding flash, the exorcism spell dispersed into the demon's body, permeating its bones and tissues down to the cellular level. Lightning-like tendrils crawled over its skin, radiating outward from the point of impact. A violent shudder wracked the demon's body, and then it was still.

It was dead before it even began to fall.

The demon's lifeless form plummeted to the ground, hitting the earth with a bone-crunching thud. A look of utter shock was frozen upon its face. The force with which the bowstring propelled the arrow forward, as well as the power of the spell merged with the head, had slammed the missile completely through the demon's chest. The arrowhead, along with a few centimeters of shaft, stuck out of its back from beneath the left shoulder blade.

Hisoka stared at the demon's corpse, breathing hard from the force of his anger, as well as the intensity of the moment. Upon catching his breath, he then turned back to the humans on the ground behind him and crouched down again.

"Here, let me see," he said, placing the bow on the ground and reaching for Atsushi's wound. "I'm sorry, but it was the quickest way to get an arrow at the time." Gently peeling away the blood-soaked knee socks Momoko had stripped from her feet and pressed to the wound, he assessed the extent of the damage. It was a simple wound, involving only the flesh of Atsushi's calf. No broken bones or severed nerves to deal with, luckily.

Hisoka closed his eyes and began a healing spell, knitting the tissue of Atsushi's leg back together.

"_Wow_, Hisoka!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, having dismissed Sohryu and descended to ground level. "I've never seen you do _anything_ like _that_!"

The empath ignored his partner's amazement, focusing instead on the healing spell.

"You're a healer?" Momoko asked, no small amount of wonder in her voice.

"Mmhm," Hisoka nodded. "That's why I was the one to go along with you. Combat is much more Tsuzuki's thing than mine. I could defend you if need be, but outright battle isn't my strong point."

"But that was amazing, what you did with the arrow!" Momoko gushed. "I've never seen anything like it!" Utter admiration was on her face. She looked at Hisoka the same way she would a sports hero or a famous actor. Or maybe her biggest crush.

Tsuzuki grinned impudently. "Looks like you have an admirer, Hisoka," he snickered.

_Jackass_, Hisoka silently snipped. It was _just like_ Tsuzuki to find humor in Hisoka's embarrassment, and the empath was indeed embarrassed. He wasn't used to having a girl look at him with such infatuation. Other than Yuma and Saya, that is, but those two were just insane.

"Is that better?" he asked Atsushi instead when he finished, not voicing his annoyance with Tsuzuki. "Is the pain gone?"

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt at all anymore," Atsushi replied, running his hand over the place the wound had been. A small scar was all that remained. "That's incredible, Kurosaki-san! It felt so soothing as you did it, too!"

Hisoka's cheeks reddened. They were speaking as if he were some sort of superhero, when in fact he still had a lot to learn. He couldn't blame them, however, as most humans go through their whole lives without ever witnessing any magic at all. At least he had learned how to relieve the pain as he knitted the tissues together, unlike when he had healed the horrendous injury Tsuzuki had gotten from the maddened nature spirit a while back. His skills had progressed a fair distance past the point he was at back then.

"Now, I take it we're done with summoning demons?" Tsuzuki asked, taking the twins' attention away from the blushing empath. Whether or not he did it on purpose to assuage Hisoka's awkwardness wasn't entirely clear.

"Yessir," Momoko said immediately, her brother answering likewise at the same time. Looks of chagrin and fear were on both of their faces. They were obviously ashamed of all the trouble they had caused, as well as hugely relieved that no one had been killed because of it. No one human, that is.

"Good," Tsuzuki grinned, "because Hisoka and I would _love_ to come back here and kick _your_ asses if we ever catch you guys stirring up trouble again."

He was only half joking.

* * *

"I wish I had been there to see that! Wow!"

Hisoka smiled self-consciously, glad he was able to keep from blushing. He and Tsuzuki were back in the office, having just recently turned in the paperwork officially closing the Kumamoto case. It was the morning after the evening the demons had been fought and defeated, as it had been getting late once everything was over and the two shinigami preferred to just go home and rest. Hisoka had retrieved the necessary paperwork soon after clocking in the next day, and the complete report had since been turned in to the chief. Hisoka had been the one to do most of the filling out, as usual.

"Yes!" Kannuki Wakaba chimed in, adding her admiration to Watari's. "Kurosaki-kun, you're amazing!" She turned to her partner, who was more or less ignoring the conversation, instead hiding behind the morning newspaper. "Ne, ne, Hajime-chan, don't you agree?"

The feral-eyed man lowered the paper and looked between Wakaba and Hisoka for a moment before grunting an affirmative. He then returned to the paper.

Wakaba gave a long-suffering sigh. Terazuma was about as far from social as you could get. It didn't help that Hisoka was not only the partner of Terazuma's biggest rival - though the _reason_ he was rivals with Tsuzuki was very much misplaced - but also the only known male who could trigger the surly shinigami's transformation. As a result, Terazuma generally avoided Hisoka like the plague, and though he didn't really _hate_ him, he usually didn't have anything kind to say about him.

Wakaba knew her partner wasn't truly a bad person, however. He just had several _issues_ (one very big one in particular) that prevented him from being more sociable. She cared about him a great deal, and she knew that he, in his own way, felt the same about her. His antisocial tendencies were an integral part of him, so no good would ever come of trying to change him.

"We are all impressed," Tatsumi said, smiling behind his hand as he pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. "Kurosaki-kun, I believe you are beginning to come into your own. Your dedication to your training and self-improvement appears to be paying off." He put a hand on the empath's shoulder. "We all wish you the best of luck as you move forward."

Hisoka did blush this time. Tatsumi was in work-mode, meaning he was a picture of businesslike formality, but his quiet praise affected the youngest shinigami more than the most fervent squealing ever could. He admired Tatsumi, that was no secret, and though the two of them were far from strangers, having the secretary compliment him like this made him feel immensely honored.

"Hisoka-san, we knew you would do great things!" the younger Gushoushin chirped, his twin nodding excitedly in agreement.

"I wouldn't call killing a single demon a _great thing_," Hisoka shrugged, a shy smile still on his face, "but thank you. Thank you all for your kind words. I'm proud of myself, to be honest." He was immeasurably glad that Yuma and Saya weren't in the office at the moment. He'd be smothered in squeals and hugs by now if they had been, and very likely stuffed into a lacy pink dress, as well. Or at least threatened with one.

"You should be!" Wakaba grinned. "You're always so hard on yourself, Kurosaki-kun! You need to start believing in yourself more!"

A few minutes later, everyone offering further commendations and encouragements - Wakaba gave Hisoka a tight hug - Hisoka was left alone to get back to his work, Wakaba returning to her desk with Terazuma, Tatsumi to his office, Watari to his lab, and the Gushoushin to the library. Hisoka picked up his pen and returned to the undone paperwork that had accumulated while he and Tsuzuki were in the field. There wasn't a lot, but he wanted to get it done so it didn't _turn into_ a lot. He occasionally turned to the computer that sat on the end of his desk, tapping away for a few moments before returning to the sheet of paper in front of him.

He was in a good mood. As he had said, he was proud that he had managed to pull off the attack with the arrow, and it felt good for his officemates to congratulate him so sincerely. What he didn't know was that many of them had wanted to tell him how much they admired him for his contributions to the Kyoto case over a year ago, especially regarding the fight with Oriya Mibu and his choosing to follow Tsuzuki into Touda's fires. They hadn't, however, as he and Tsuzuki had been recovering from massive trauma at the time, and didn't need any reminders of the disaster that had nearly torn them permanently apart. Everyone had given the two their space, letting them recover on their own time.

After several minutes of working quietly, Hisoka suddenly stopped. It had just occurred to him that Tsuzuki was being awfully quiet, and had been for a long time.

He looked up and across the double desk (actually two desks pushed together) at Tsuzuki. He then dropped his pen, sighing and looking up at the ceiling in exasperation.

Tsuzuki was asleep, his head down on the desk. One arm hung down beside him, but the other was lying on the desk, partly encircling his head. His fingers were loosely curled around the handle of a coffee mug, which sat half-empty above his head. His lips were slightly parted, and his gentle breathing was just barely audible. He looked as relaxed as he'd be if he had nodded off in his own home.

_Idiot_, Hisoka thought, reaching down to his right and opening the bottom drawer of his desk. Inside was a bright yellow tennis ball, which rolled slightly as the drawer was opened. Plucking it up, he pushed the drawer partly closed as he sat up, brushing his thumb along the surface of the ball to feel the short, coarse fuzz.

He drew his hand back, obviously meaning to throw the ball at Tsuzuki, but then stopped. Frowning at the coffee mug Tsuzuki held onto, he leaned over and gently pushed it to the side, breaking Tsuzuki's barely-there hold on it and moving it out of the way. He didn't want to be the one responsible for coffee being spilled everywhere.

He then pitched the tennis ball at Tsuzuki, bouncing it cleanly off of his head.

"DWAH!" Tsuzuki yelped, startled awake. He bolted upright with such speed that he overdid it and tipped over backwards. His wheeled chair promptly overturned with a crash, the wheels themselves assisting the rapid upset, and dumped him onto the floor with a hard thump. This earned not a few amused snickers from the people in the office around them, as well as a couple ohs of surprise at the noise.

For a moment, he looked around wildly, trying to figure out what happened. When he saw the fuzzy yellow ball rolling along the floor near him, and Hisoka looking down at him appraisingly, he put two and two together.

"Hisoka!" he whined. "That was mean!"

"Then don't fall asleep on the job, you moron!" Hisoka snipped back. Standing up from his chair, he retrieved the tennis ball from the floor and returned it to his desk, this time shutting the drawer completely.

Tsuzuki picked himself up off the floor and righted his chair, pouting the whole time. "I'm gonna have a headache," he said petulantly as he sat back down.

Hisoka sighed. "Here," he said, opening the top drawer of his desk and producing a small bottle of aspirin. "If I really hurt you that bad, take a couple of these. Otherwise, stop moaning."

The older shinigami took the bottle and popped the top off, shaking two white pills out into his hand. He snapped the lid back on and returned the bottle to Hisoka, then swallowed the pills with a swig of coffee from his mug. He grimaced as he swallowed the lukewarm liquid. Coffee just didn't taste as good when it had cooled.

"I'm going to get some tea from the break room," Hisoka said as he returned the aspirin to its place. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"Could you get me some coffee, please?" Tsuzuki asked, holding up his mug. "This has gotten cold."

"Sure," Hisoka nodded, taking the mug and turning toward the door.

"Thanks, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said after him.

"Mmhm," Hisoka nodded, exiting the common office area and walking the short route to the break room. He wasn't truly angry at Tsuzuki, at least not like he would have been closer to the beginning of their partnership. Still, falling asleep at work was a rather stupid thing to do, especially when you had already drunk half of your coffee. He wondered if Tsuzuki had picked up the decaf pot on accident.

Humming quietly to himself, he dropped a teabag into an empty mug, then filled the mug from a hot-water pitcher that was next to the coffee pots. Leaving it to steep, he dumped the cold coffee from Tsuzuki's mug into the sink and refilled it from the regular coffeepot. The regular pot had a brown top, while the decaf pot had an orange top. He made sure to pick up the one with the brown top.

Just as he filled the mug and returned the pot to its warmer, it happened.

Images and sounds suddenly detonated behind Hisoka's eyes, filling his mind with a cacophony of unbidden information. It was brief, only a few seconds long, but to the empath it seemed like an eternity.

Fractured memories assaulted his mind's eye, broken and out of order. They were so clear and vivid that he imagined he could smell the blood that seemed to splatter over it all, tinting everything a sickening red.

Jagged images of his thirteen-year-old self being raped under a sakura tree stabbed into his brain, turning their horror into an almost physical pain. Spliced together with the shattered kaleidoscope were memories of his older self in the same place, forced to submit as his enemy ravaged him again in dreams, the nightmare from the evening of his first date with Tsuzuki. Pain exploded throughout his body, the pain of his terror, of his helplessness, of the violent, brutal rapes.

Just as quickly as they appeared, the memories were gone. Hisoka's body had jerked as his mind was taken over, hot coffee slopping out of the mug and onto his hand and wrist. The scalding liquid on his skin had yanked him from his horrific trance, and he yelped in surprise and pain, dropping the mug. The green ceramic hit the floor and broke with a loud _ping_, coffee spraying everywhere.

Hisoka swore, groping for the paper towels that were nearby. Crouching down, he gingerly picked up the pieces of the broken mug so he could throw them away. He was shaking all over, especially his hands, and he was breathing hard.

_What was _that_?_ his dazed mind thought over and over. Never before had the memories of Muraki raping him burst upon him with such sudden violence, not without any provocation. A large part of his shock was due to the sheer improbability of it, to just how out of place those memories seemed in his current situation. There was nothing in the break room to even remotely remind him of the worst moments of his life (and afterlife).

A dark thought came upon him as he dropped the broken pieces into the garbage. He hissed in discomfort as a shard of ceramic scraped his skin, opening a small cut along his index finger. He paid it no mind, however, knowing the wound would be closed in less than a minute.

Muraki had been invading his mind relatively often recently. The dreams, the visions during his waking hours...the mad doctor had contacted him more than once since the nightmare, mainly to taunt and tease him that their reunion was drawing very close. What if this sudden deluge of unpleasant memories was an attack from Muraki? What if the surgeon was playing with him, causing him pain simply to satisfy his own sadistic urges?

He could be listening in on Hisoka's thoughts right now.

Hisoka grimaced in anger, his teeth clenching behind his lips. _Hey, asshole, I know you're there_, he thought heatedly, throwing the full force of his hatred into the silent words.

No response. Either Muraki wasn't there anymore - was he even there to begin with? - or he had chosen not to answer, silently laughing at the empath's futile attempts to insult him.

After cleaning up the spilled coffee and depositing the used paper towels into the trash, he stood with the small of his back against the edge of the counter, his hands partially covering his face as he focused on his breathing. He had to relax, he had to regain an appearance of normalcy. He didn't want to worry Tsuzuki or anyone else by appearing sullen or fearful when he returned to the office area.

He stood like that for several minutes, then drew a deep, deliberate breath and let it out in a great sigh. Turning back to the counter, he poured coffee for Tsuzuki into a new mug and finished preparing that and his tea. He added copious amounts of milk and sugar to Tsuzuki's coffee, as he knew his partner liked, and a splash of vanilla creamer and a sprinkle of cinnamon to his tea. Making sure his hands were no longer shaking, he exited the break room with the two drinks and returned to his and Tsuzuki's desk.

"That took a little longer than expected, Hisoka," Tsuzuki remarked as the empath sat down. He smiled cheekily. "Did you get lost?"

"I slopped some coffee onto my hand and dropped the mug you were using," Hisoka replied. "I had to clean it up." He wasn't lying, after all; he just chose not to tell Tsuzuki exactly _why_ he had scalded himself.

"Ah. Thanks." Tsuzuki accepted the freshly-poured coffee with a smile, and the two settled down into their work for the day.

It was quiet for the next few hours, the peace broken occasionally by Tsuzuki complaining about how boring office work was, often followed by a snide remark from Hisoka to suck it up and do his job.

It was about an hour and a half after lunch when Tatsumi came to them.

"Tsuzuki-san, Kurosaki-kun," the secretary said, getting their attention.

"Hai?" Tsuzuki replied, acknowledging Tatsumi's presence. Hisoka looked up from his computer screen at the same time.

"There is an unidentifiable aura permeating through a residential area of the city of Nagasaki," Tatsumi explained, his sapphire-blue eyes seeming to flash uneasily. "Konoe-kachou wants you two to go there immediately and discover the cause."

* * *

Nagasaki.

Hisoka felt conflicting emotions flutter in his belly and heart as he surveyed the city around him. This was the city where they had first met, their conflicting personalities clashing right from the outset. Here they had worked on the Maria Wong case together, getting to know one another and eventually gaining each other's trust. The first case of Hisoka's career had launched him into the wonderful and terrifying world of the shinigami, which would be his home until his spirit passed on to the afterlife.

It was also here that Hisoka had accepted Tsuzuki's love, finally opening himself up to his partner's affections. Though he had yet to give in to Tsuzuki's - and his own - physical desires, he had let Tsuzuki come closer to him than he'd ever let anyone else come before. That place in the park where they had shared their first kiss would always be a very special place to the empath.

_It was also here_, he thought darkly, eyebrows drawing down, _that Tsuzuki first met Muraki._ Pursuing the mysterious girl, who had eventually turned out to be Maria, through town had brought Tsuzuki to the famous Ooura Cathedral where he had, apparently by pure chance, met a tall, silver-haired man dressed all in white. The man had been praying, a single tear sliding down his pale cheek as he did so. Their eyes had locked briefly, and Tsuzuki had been forced to turn away, unnerved by the intensity he saw in the other's gaze.

That's when it had all started. Muraki had soon afterward kidnapped Hisoka, unsealing his memories of that night in the sakura grove three years before, unleashing an avalanche of terror and hatred that even now the boy couldn't shake off. He had accepted the position of shinigami with an uneasy suspicion that he had _not_ died of an incurable illness, but what he found to answer those suspicions had been more horrible than he had ever expected. Hisoka had found himself trapped in a never-ending push-and-pull of who was in charge of his destiny, and Tsuzuki had become yet another object of the surgeon's unquenchable obsessions.

It all led back to Hisoka wandering out of the house one night when he was thirteen, unable to sleep and needing fresh air. That one fatal decision had gotten the ball rolling, a ball that crashed further and further into Hisoka's life, growing inexorably larger until it exploded into the fiasco that was Kyoto. Even now, just thinking about Japan's ancient capital sent a shiver of anxiety throughout his body. He didn't think he'd be able to visit Watari's hometown again for a very long time, if ever.

Tsuzuki stood beside him, a fuda held between the index and middle fingers of his right hand, the delicate paper situated in front of his face, the top edge just barely touching his forehead between his eyes. Hisoka couldn't read the calligraphy on the fuda from his angle, but when Tsuzuki had pulled it from an inside pocket of his overcoat, Hisoka thought he caught a glimpse of the kanji for _detect_.

The slip of paper was indeed infused with a spell to detect evil, or at least unnatural and/or supernatural presences. Nagasaki was a large city, and the only clue they had about where this powerful aura was manifesting was that it was in one of the residential districts. Rather than waste time running around trying to find the right spot, Tsuzuki had activated the fuda he now held in his fingers to do the job for them. Hisoka could do the same with his empathy, but opening himself to the aura may be a dangerous thing to do. Tsuzuki's detection spell had no connection to his psyche, meaning he wasn't likely to suddenly double over in pain once he pinpointed his target.

"Found it," Tsuzuki said after a few moments. "Let's go, Hisoka."

Hisoka made a sound of agreement, and the two of them took off in the direction Tsuzuki had indicated. Hisoka wasn't terribly familiar with the layout of Nagasaki, save for the places connected to the Maria Wong case, as well as the park with the large boulder in it. He followed Tsuzuki's lead, stretching his senses outward to detect any malicious presences, but at the same time hanging back in case he had to throw his mental shields up suddenly.

"We're here," he suddenly said. The atmosphere around them changed so abruptly it was like they had translocated in, an oppressive presence suddenly hanging over everything. The empath raised his shields, preferring not to leave himself open and vulnerable in such a situation.

"Yeah," Tsuzuki nodded, his expression growing wary. He, too, could feel the aura surrounding them. He wasn't nearly as perceptive as Hisoka, but all shinigami were sensitive to supernatural phenomena, and the purple-eyed man could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He looked at his smaller partner. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

"No," Hisoka replied, shaking his head slowly. "I've never felt anything like this before. All I can tell you for now is that it's definitely not friendly."

"Can you sense which direction it's coming from?"

The honey-blond shinigami closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt around. "Yes," he answered after a moment.

"Do you feel comfortable going towards it," Tsuzuki asked, "or do you want to hang back for now and see what information we can gather?"

"We can't gather any information where we stand," Hisoka shook his head again. "We have to at least get closer if we're to identify what we're up against. All I can sense right now is which direction it's in."

"Do you want to lead the way, or should I use my fuda?"

"It's okay, I'll lead the way. I'll just have to be careful to keep my mind guarded."

The two shinigami started walking, Hisoka in front. The younger shinigami was silent, breathing slowly and steadily, concentrating on following the sensation without exposing himself to harm. He occasionally walked with his eyes closed, gently touching the fingers of his left hand to his temple, as if he had a headache.

"The residents don't seem to be bothered by anything," Tsuzuki said quietly after a few blocks.

Hisoka glanced around. His partner was right. Everyone around them seemed totally unaffected by the aura that had the two shinigami on high alert. People were going about their daily business as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

"What we're tracking must not be manifesting in the living world," Tsuzuki continued, "or at least not on the level of consciousness occupied by humans."

"They may still be in danger," Hisoka said, his voice low. "If they are completely unaware of what's going on around them, and whatever is responsible decides to attack..."

"You're right," Tsuzuki nodded. "We should hurry. Found anything out yet?"

"No, just that it's slowly getting stronger as we go along."

They continued on. The people around them remained blissfully ignorant of the oppressive presence, although the pair got the occasional curious glance. They did make quite an odd sight to those not in the know. The young man in front wasn't paying any attention to where he was going, and the taller man following him sometimes had to stop him from walking into a pole or a wall. The teenager seemed almost to be blind, in which case it made no sense for him to be leading.

"Down there," Hisoka said suddenly, stopping and pointing down a secluded street.

Tsuzuki followed Hisoka's line of sight. The street the empath was indicating was quiet and shaded over by several large trees of the oak family. Cars were parked here and there along the sidewalk, and in the distance he could see that the block terminated in a rounded cul-de-sac. There were no pedestrians on this road that he could see, and the entire scene spoke of peaceful domesticity.

Hisoka began to turn onto this road, but Tsuzuki quickly stopped him.

"Wait, Hisoka," he said. "We don't know what's down there. Or have you been able to figure that out?"

"No, I...I still don't know what it is."

"Then we need to stand back for a little while," Tsuzuki insisted. "We can't just go running in without knowing what we're facing."

"But, if whatever it is is planning an attack on this neighborhood, then we can't afford any delays. Minutes lost could be lives lost." Hisoka looked down the block. "If we've gotten this close without being able to identify it, then I don't think hanging back will make any difference. If we wait, we'll still be just as unprepared as we'll be if we go in now. I don't think we'll know who or what our enemy is until we see it."

"Hisoka," Tsuzuki said, "are you sure you want to go forward right now?"

"Yes," the empath replied after a moment of silence. "Just...be on your guard."

"Right," Tsuzuki nodded slowly in assent. "I've got your back, Hisoka."

As they traveled down the street, both of them noticed just how quiet it was, even compared to the other streets of this neighborhood. As Tsuzuki had observed, there was no one out walking on this block. The placed seemed eerily lifeless, the dappled sunshine coming through the trees' foliage being the only thing that kept it from feeling absolutely dead.

"This house," Hisoka suddenly said, stopping in front of the last house on the block. "It's all coming from this house."

The home they were now standing in front of was of Western design, yet a traditional clay wall with a gate surrounded the property, giving it an added sense of privacy and security. By now their surroundings were completely silent, the noise of traffic and everyday life being left behind at the crossroad.

"Ready, Asato?" Hisoka said softly, almost whispering.

"Yeah," Tsuzuki nodded. He produced another fuda from one of his inside pockets, casting a barrier spell around the two of them.

Hisoka stood there for a moment, gazing at the double doors of the gate. Anything could be waiting for them inside this house, myriad possibilities running across his mind's eye, some less desirable than the rest. For a moment, he considered Tsuzuki's suggestion that they stand back for a while and try to figure out what the presence was. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the gate latch.

One of the doors swung open before he even had a chance to touch it, making him draw his hand back in surprise. No one stood on the other side that would explain the sudden opening. Unseen hands had opened the gate, as if inviting them in. The seeming invitation both piqued Hisoka's curiosity and inflamed his sense of foreboding. Cautiously, he stepped inside, Tsuzuki following behind him.

The sight that greeted them was entirely innocuous. It was a normal grassy front yard, Western-style like the house, yet to one side was a small Japanese rock garden with a two-tiered fountain bubbling away at the center. A youth's bike leaned up against the front porch, and a fairy-themed wind chime swayed gently in the breeze by the door.

If it weren't for the oppressive aura emanating from the house, Hisoka and Tsuzuki would have thought the place to be completely harmless.

As soon as they were both inside the yard, the gate swung shut behind them with a thud, the latch falling into place with a click that sounded eerily final. Both shinigami looked back at the gate, startled, then at each other. A grim look passed between them. Whatever was waiting for them within the house most definitely wanted them here.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Hisoka," Tsuzuki muttered, looking at the closed gate again. When his partner didn't answer, he looked to his front again. "Hisoka...? Hisoka!"

The empath had climbed the steps up to the door, and was reaching for the brass doorknob.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, running up behind him and pulling him back from the door. "We can't just go waltzing in there! We haven't even inspected the whole outside of the house yet!" If they were going to enter the building to face an unknown enemy, they should at _least_ go around the place at least once and see if they can learn anything from the outside.

"Something's waiting for me in there," Hisoka said under his breath, an odd sense of urgency underlining his words. "Something's waiiihhhnnnnnnngggaaaaaaahhh...!"

The empath collapsed back against Tsuzuki, clutching his head and wailing in pain, or perhaps terror. His whole body had gone stiff, shaking uncontrollably, and a cold sweat had broken out over his suddenly ashen skin.

"_HISOKA!_" Tsuzuki cried out, catching his partner as he fell. The boy's stiffened body abruptly went limp, and he would have fallen to the ground if Tsuzuki hadn't been supporting him. Tsuzuki lowered Hisoka into a sitting position as gently as he could. "What's going on? Hisoka! _Hisoka!_"

Seconds ticked agonizingly by as the younger shinigami lay trapped in an internal struggle. His shaking only got worse, and his body jerked a few times, as if he were fighting to break free of something. Whimpers and cries flowed out of his throat in an almost constant litany of anguish. Finally, just as Tsuzuki was about to translocate them out of there, he raised his head. Tear-filled emerald met bewildered amethyst, making Tsuzuki's heart drop into his gut.

"H-Hisoka...?"

His partners lips moved, as if he were trying to speak. A nearly inaudible string of sounds came out, but Tsuzuki was unable to understand.

"What was that?" he asked, leaning closer, listening intently. "What is it, Hisoka?"

Hisoka managed to whisper clearly this time, and what Tsuzuki heard turned his blood to ice.

"H-he..._he's here_...!"

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** I wonder if I should even bother apologizing for the wait this time. It's happened so many times that I may as well just consider it normal updating frequency. Yar.

I'm hoping the idea of Hisoka storing his weapons in an "arms locker" (or "hammerspace") within his mind doesn't come off as too cheesy. It's just that we never see him carrying them with him, and yet I would think he'd want access to them if need be. He's a talented fencer and archer, and it's plausible to say he'd want to utilize those skills in battle if he needed to. Square-Enix fans would have an idea of what I'm talking about, as _Kingdom Hearts_ and _Dissidia_ characters often call their weapons out of thin air when they're needed, and then dismiss them back into whatever pocket dimension they're carried in when the battle's over. Does anyone have any thoughts on this? I'd like to hear them if you do.

If anyone knows what I'm referencing with the "TURN AND FACE ME" part, you are automatically awesome.

Anyway, I made up for the long wait with a long chapter. Leave a review if you feel like it (pretty please), and I'll see you all next time.

Ja mata!


	20. Jerking the Strings

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Many thanks to Riaries, Unclear Destiny, ShinigamixGirl, Meyham, fugu-chan, Tarmachan, Vepirma, Juu, Juda, and AinikuSamada for reading and reviewing chapter nineteen! I'm glad you guys keep supporting me despite my slow updates. Hugs and kisses.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Twenty: Jerking the Strings**

Tsuzuki stared down at Hisoka, eyes wide in shock and horror. _He's here._ Those two little words sent a bolt of nausea into the older shinigami's guts. His partner lay in his arms, on the verge of hysterical. He was shaking, sweating, panting, eyes wide. The psychic attack he had suffered just a moment ago had shaken him badly, striking deep into his mental core.

_If Muraki's the one to blame..._ Tsuzuki thought grimly, staring up at the door with a sour look. If the silver-haired surgeon was indeed the attacker, then it was no wonder why Hisoka was so rattled. Muraki knew Hisoka inside and out, knew his most sensitive spots and how to exploit them. The doctor's sick pleasure in his victims' agony meant he felt no compunctions in using that advantage.

Tsuzuki could feel nothing that he recognized as Muraki in the aura emanating from the house, but that meant nothing. Hisoka was much more attuned to individual presences, especially that of his murderer. If Muraki had attacked from a distance, Hisoka wouldn't have said that he was here, right?

The younger shinigami hunched forward, dropping his head into his hands. His breathing, though still shaky, was now slow and deliberate. He was trying to regain control of his emotions.

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked gently, still holding his partner's trembling form.

Hisoka just shook his head in response, then cursed under his breath. He started muttering something rhythmic that Tsuzuki couldn't discern. It wasn't immediately clear if it was a mantra or if he was just vocalizing his efforts to calm down.

After a moment he sat up straight again. He was still trembling, still breathing hard, but he was much more in control than he had been before. His expression had changed from one of fear to one of grim defiance.

"You okay?" Tsuzuki asked, rubbing his hand up and down the youth's back comfortingly.

"No," the empath replied, "but I'll manage."

"Is it really...him? Is _he_ really here? In this house?"

Hisoka lowered his face slightly, the skin around his eyes tightening. "It was him who attacked me just now. I know it was. It came from the upper floor of this house."

"Then he really is here," Tsuzuki whispered. Dread wormed its way through him, as well as no small amount of hatred and a need for vengeance. Nobody and nothing stirred Tsuzuki's wrath quite like the deceptively genial physician. The speed and power with which these emotions welled up was frightening to him. He wasn't supposed to be this kind of person; he wasn't supposed to be the demon that he had always been accused of being.

Hisoka suddenly pushed himself up and away from Tsuzuki, an angry growl coming from his throat. Tsuzuki caught a glimpse of clenched teeth and ominously burning eyes before the empath turned away and faced the door.

"Muraki," the younger shinigami said under his breath, spitting the word as if it were an expletive. Without further ado, he flung open the outer screen door and tried the knob of the main door, which turned easily in his hand, unlocked. He disappeared quickly into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

"Wait, Hisoka!" Tsuzuki called, scrabbling to his feet and following the boy. Hisoka was rushing in with no plan and virtually no defenses. Tsuzuki would never forgive himself if he let something happen to his soulmate.

He stopped just inside the door as the thought crossed his mind, giving him pause. _Soulmate?__ Really?_ A second later, he continued further into the house, his jaw set with determination. _Yes, that's exactly what Hisoka is to me._ As silly and farfetched as he had always considered the idea, he could think of no better word to describe his attachment to Hisoka. There was no doubt in his mind that they were meant for each other, and if Fate was not kind enough to let them be together, then they would never be happy with anyone else. That's why all of Tsuzuki's relationships had been failures until Hisoka.

The object of Tsuzuki's musings made his way quickly down the short hallway that led away from the front door, unaware of Tsuzuki's decision regarding him. In just a few steps he found himself in a living room, and he stopped, sickened and horrified by what he saw.

A couple, presumably a husband and wife, were dead, their blood in pools and spatters around them. The man was in an armchair, his head lolling to the side and his face frozen in shock. His torso was opened from neck to groin, the massive wound crooked and uneven, as if a blade had been slashed quickly down his front. Blood had run from his mouth and nose, indicating the organs inside had also been damaged. He was sitting awkwardly in the chair, as if he had fallen into it rather than deliberately sitting down. Perhaps he had stood up to confront the intruder and had been shoved back into the chair by the assault.

The woman was on the floor several feet away, lying on her face. Blood stained the carpet under her body, her injuries on her front side. Hisoka could see through her hair a nasty gash in her throat, though much of the blood around her originated from her abdomen. Maybe she had tried to run from her attacker, but he had caught her, reaching around to stab her in the belly and then slitting her throat. Or perhaps he had slit her throat and then disemboweled her. With so much blood, it was impossible to tell which wound came first.

"Gods..." Hisoka heard Tsuzuki gasp as he caught up to him. Horror and revulsion emanated from his partner, mirroring his own reaction. He felt Tsuzuki grip his shoulder tightly, his hand shaking. Even after decades of shinigami work, Tsuzuki was far from desensitized to such brutal violence. He never would be; he was too kind for it.

The people lying butchered in the living room were Caucasian, explaining the dominant Western design of the property. They looked to be in their late-30s to mid-40s, but it was hard to tell in their current state. The décor of the room mostly matched the style of the house, but there was a fairly large collection of Japanese miscellany scattered throughout the room, showing an appreciation for Asian aesthetics.

_Here for work? An army family?_ Hisoka shook his head. It didn't matter what these Caucasians were doing living in Japan. That hardly factored into the situation at hand. Jarring himself loose from the grisly scene before him, he turned and plunged further into the house, anger once again overtaking him. He hissed, a murderous look settling over his face. Muraki's name pounded within his skull, an urge to slaughter the man responsible for these and many other deaths seething through his entire body.

He heard Tsuzuki call his name and follow, and he felt his partner's concern over his lack of caution. Some small part of Hisoka also quailed at his rashly charging into things, but an overwhelmingly larger part of him didn't care. Muraki had been taunting him, teasingly insinuating that their reunion was drawing very near. He had tortured and killed so many innocent people in his efforts to get the two of them involved, his disregard for human life and his cruel enjoyment of the ending of it just as shockingly unspeakable as it had always been, if not more so. He still hung onto his obsessions with and possessiveness of them, unable to let go of his desire to make Tsuzuki his and control Hisoka's every thought as his "doll."

The bane of Hisoka's existence was still alive, and as long as he drew breath he would never stop tormenting him and Tsuzuki. He would never end his demented crusade to own them in every sense of the word.

_Why didn't you die in __Kyoto__?_ Hisoka thought, frustrated tears stinging his eyes, although he refused to let them fall. _Why couldn't you just leave us in peace?_

"Where are the gods-damned stairs?" he snarled, looking for the way up to the second floor. The house had two stories, and the presence they had been following was on the upper level. Just as the question left his mouth, however, he found what he was looking for. He ran up the stairs, Tsuzuki on his heels.

As they got to the top, Hisoka pulled up short again. Near the stairs was another body, that of a young man who appeared to be in his late teens. He was slumped against the wall, a gaping stab wound in his upper abdomen at about the level of the stomach. A large amount of blood ran down from his mouth over his neck and chest, suggesting he had vomited it up as he lay dying. Like his parents, his eyes were glassy and staring. Unlike his parents, the murder weapon was nearby, lying on the carpet by his feet. Congealed blood covered much of the large hunting knife, small bits of what looked like flesh clinging to the blade's serrated edge.

Hisoka swore again, this time loudly, overlapping Tsuzuki's cry of dismay. "_MURAKI!_" the empath shouted, his hands balled tightly into fists at his sides.

Suddenly he whipped around, his attention drawn to the door farthest from them as if pulled on a string. The closed door, normally an innocuous sight, seemed to pull at him, draw him toward it, as if some invisible force were compelling him to approach. He could almost _see_ the oppressive presence clouding the air in that direction.

He started toward the door without a word, his eyes wide with rage, but was stopped when Tsuzuki grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Wait, Hisoka!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, turning the boy around and gripping his shoulders. "I've let you come this far, but I'm _not_ letting you go through that door! Not with you rushing in like a fool!"

"What am I supposed to _do_, Asato?" Hisoka yelled back. "He's already killed three people! What amount of _preparing_ or _thinking_ is going to make this confrontation go any better?"

Tsuzuki sighed through his nose, not answering immediately. After a moment, he spoke, softer than before. "I don't want you to go running right into a trap, Hisoka. At _least_ be a little more cautious. You know what Muraki is capable of. Don't let him get the upper hand simply because you're too blind in your rage to think straight." He looked directly into Hisoka's eyes, hoping his partner realized the seriousness of his words. Losing Hisoka to a trap that would be easily avoided if his partner had a level head would be maddening.

Hisoka dropped his head into his hands with a frustrated growl. Tsuzuki was right; he _was_ rushing in like a fool. The older man's quiet but intense words had broken through his enraged haze, bringing him back down to Earth. He fisted his hands in his hair and breathed a great sigh, then looked back up at Tsuzuki.

"I'm going in, Asato," he said, his eyes flashing with determination.

"I know you are," Tsuzuki replied. "I just want you to be on your guard."

Hisoka turned back toward the door and marched toward it, slower than before, but with just as much resolve. The curse marks were burning on his skin beneath his clothes, aggravated by the proximity of their creator. "Are you coming with me or not?"

"Of course I am," Tsuzuki said, just a few steps behind him. "I'm not letting you face him alone."

The younger shinigami didn't say anything, but he was grateful for Tsuzuki's protectiveness right now. The madman who awaited them was inhumanly powerful, and two shinigami was always better than one when dealing with that level of power and insanity.

They got to the door and stopped. Hisoka stared at the doorknob for a long moment, his distorted reflection staring back at him. His teeth were clenched tight behind his closed lips, his heart hammering in his chest. This was it. He was finally going to see Muraki Kazutaka in the flesh again.

Stirring himself into action, he grasped the knob and flung the door open.

* * *

_THUD_

The older Gushoushin jumped, startled by the loud noise. He quickly regained his bearings, and realized that the sound he heard hadn't really been that loud, but in the quiet of the library it seemed to split the air like a firecracker. It sounded like a large book had fallen on the floor.

Pushing the book of hexes used as practical jokes into its place on the shelf, the bird-like spirit left the half-full shelving cart he had been working on emptying, searching for the source of the thump. He discovered it just an aisle or two away. Indeed, a hefty book lay on the floor, apparently having toppled from its shelf.

"How did _you_ fall out?" the Gushoushin wondered out loud, floating over to the fallen tome. There was a gap in the books of a shelf about four feet up from the floor, indicating where it had been, and the shelf must have been filled to capacity with the book in its place. All volumes on that shelf had been held firmly in place by the books on either side of them. It was difficult to guess how the book on the floor had fallen without someone consciously pulling it off.

The feathered librarian landed lightly on the floor to pick the book up. It had fallen open to a page near the middle, but as the Gushoushin reached out to take it, the pages started rapidly turning themselves. He jumped back, startled.

"Is something wrong?" the younger Gushoushin asked, poking his head around the corner. He had been drawn by the sound of the book falling, as well. His eyes widened when he saw the pages moving on their own, and he came closer.

The pages stopped turning as suddenly as they had started, resting at the very end of the book, only a dozen or so pages until the back cover.

The two Gushoushin waited, watching the book warily. When it seemed like nothing further would happen, they both drew nearer, looking at the open book cautiously.

The even-numbered page was taken up by a large diagram made up of two outlines in human shape, one for the front of the body and one for the back. Within the outlines were writhing patterns of red lines, some resembling ancient Chinese writing and others twisting into elegant, abstract designs.

The older Gushoushin's jaw dropped, and his brother gasped in surprise.

"This is-!"

The red lines on the page began to glow with an eerie light.

* * *

Hisoka stood in the doorway for a moment. Confusion dominated his thoughts. He had expected to find his most hated enemy, but instead he was confronted with a dim, apparently empty room. Not only that, but the oppressive presence he had felt emanating from this room had vanished as soon as he opened the door. The difference was as drastic as if he had stepped from a sauna directly into an icy shower.

_Keep your guard up_, he told himself. _It may be a trap._

A scent reached his nose, one that was oddly familiar. Chills ran down his spine, but he couldn't quite place where he had smelled it before. He swallowed, his nerves crackling as his senses stretched out, trying to find something, anything, that announced the presence of his murderer. The invisible rope that had dragged him to this room was gone. There was no arguing that point; it was simply no more. Even the curse marks were fading, the burn reduced to a warm tingling.

He heard his partner say his name quietly, as if waiting for him to make a move.

Slowly, as if afraid that any movement may prove fatal, Hisoka reached up to the wall next to the door, searching for the light switch. He found it and flipped the light on.

It was a bedroom, and it took only half a second to determine that the occupant was a girl. A very girly girl, it seemed. The décor was cloyingly cute, and posters of attractive boys plastered the walls, interspersed here and there with images of fluffy animals and Hello Kitty.

Hisoka hardly noticed any of this. His eyes were drawn immediately to the bed, and he froze in horror. The room's occupant lay there, bruised and bloodied. She was also nude.

That's where he had smelled this scent before, he realized. It was the scent of violent sex, of semen and blood together. The girl had been raped in her own bed.

A gasping cry left Tsuzuki as he, too, saw the girl's body. The older shinigami's shock flooded Hisoka's mind, but he ruthlessly shut it out. He had to stay focused; he couldn't let his empathy distract him.

The younger man suddenly gasped and leaped toward the bed. Through the much stronger flow of his partner's emotions, he sensed the barest spark of life coming from the girl.

"She's still alive!" he cried, incredulous.

"What?" Tsuzuki nearly shouted in disbelief. He entered the room as well...

...or not.

As he tried to cross the threshold, he was stopped as forcefully as if he had run face-first into a cement wall. Crackling energy surrounded him, and he was thrown backwards into the hallway. A cry of pain ripped from his throat, and he lay there stunned, the world spinning as he stared up at the white, featureless ceiling.

"Asato!" Hisoka gasped, surprised by his partner's violent ejection from the room. For a moment he wavered, torn between going to Tsuzuki and going to the girl. They both needed his help. After a few seconds' deliberation, he went to the girl. Tsuzuki could take care of himself; Muraki's latest victim could not.

He jumped up onto the bed beside the still body, heedless of her nudity, and gently took her chin. He put his ear to her mouth, listening for breath, and pressed two fingers to the side of her throat to search for a pulse. Both were so faint as to almost escape detection.

"Come on, wake up," he said under his breath, looking underneath her eyelids. "Please, hold on." The healer's instincts his training had instilled in him were clamoring for him to heal her, but the injuries and contusions were so numerous and widespread that he couldn't figure out where to begin.

Tsuzuki had picked himself up off the floor with a groan, the energy that had thrown him back from the door still lingering in spots, zinging him as he moved. He cautiously approached the door again. He put a hand out and encountered a potent energy barrier in the doorway, small arcs of yellow electricity-like power dancing over his fingers as he touched it. Either the shield had been slammed down in the few seconds between Hisoka entering and Tsuzuki attempting to, or it was designed to let Hisoka through but not Tsuzuki. The older shinigami growled low in his throat. He had a very good idea of who was responsible.

"Hisoka," he said quietly, watching the boy as he checked for signs of life in the girl, wanting to be at his side but unable to come any closer. It was maddening.

The empath had found a bathrobe draped over the back of a chair and taken it to the bed, gently wrapping the girl's ravaged body. He cradled her in his arms, desperately searching her face for any hint of consciousness. Her short-cut, sandy-blonde hair tickled his skin as her head lolled against his neck.

The girl suddenly jerked and went stiff, eyes opening wide as her lungs sucked in a rattling breath. One hand fisted in the front of his shirt, and she stared at him with wild eyes, her breath now jagged, uneven panting.

"It's all right," Hisoka said in as soothing a voice as he could manage. "He's not here. I'm here to help you. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

Broken syllables trickled from her mouth, her jade-green eyes watering and quickly spilling over with tears. She was trembling violently, her grip on his shirt tightening until the fabric was in danger of tearing. Her words gained speed and strength until she was babbling hysterically, nearly shrieking in her terror.

"W-wait," Hisoka stammered, unnerved by her panic. "I can't understand you!" The words that poured from the girl's mouth were in English. She had, in her delirium, forgotten which country she was in.

Her words cut off in an agonized scream, her body stiffening again and arching up, almost knocking Hisoka backward. The bathrobe was shredded from within as a blinding red light erupted from her skin, leaving her naked again. She collapsed back down to the bed, still screaming.

Hisoka stared at her in shock and horror, every instinct urging him to recoil. Glowing red lines had appeared on her skin, burning so brightly they were almost white, covering her entire torso and both her arms. Her limbs twisted and contorted in anguish, pain penetrating her every fiber as the marks seared themselves into her skin.

It was an exact replica of the marks on Hisoka's body, which flared to life once more, forcing a choked cry from his throat. He clutched at himself as the pain overtook him, her continued shrieks ringing in his ears. He thought he heard his partner calling his name, but he couldn't be sure through the haze of the girl's pain flowing through his empathy, her screaming, and his own pain wracking his body.

The younger shinigami's breath caught in his throat. The marks on the girl were spreading. New paths were being carved out of her skin, burning into areas normally left unblemished by the curse. He watched in stunned surprise as they wound their way to her hands and around her fingers; snaked down around her thighs and below her knees to do the same to her feet and toes; and finally, curled up around her neck to sear into her face and scalp.

She was no longer screaming as the marks ceased their spread, having no other part of her to invade. She was exhausted, her shrieks reduced to anguished whines and whimpers, her body no longer strong enough to cry out so loudly. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes wide and unseeing, the pain having overwhelmed her senses.

Hisoka sat very still for a moment, watching her uncertainly. The marks smoldered on her skin, as did his. Nervously, he checked himself over, making sure his own curse marks hadn't spread as well. They hadn't, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He raised his eyes to Tsuzuki, who stood as close to the door as he could, unable to help his partner. His emerald gaze shone with confusion and helplessness.

"Asato," he said quietly, "w-what...what should I do?"

"Bring her here, Hisoka," Tsuzuki answered, his voice a little unsteady. He was just as shaken by what they had witnessed as Hisoka. "We'll take her back with us to Meifu."

Hisoka nodded, looking around for something else to cover her with. The bathrobe was entirely destroyed, the tattered remains lying beneath her devastated body. He found a long jacket on her coat rack and brought it over, opening it to wrap it gently around her.

The curse marks, which had faded to a dull glow, suddenly flared up again, making him jerk back in alarm. The girl arched up again, but not as violently as before, her body catastrophically weakened. She gave a feeble whine as her body was lifted entirely off the bed, levitating in a morbid facsimile of a stage magician's trick. She writhed in midair for a moment before the marks turned entirely white, power suddenly pouring from them, whipping the air in the room into a hurricane.

"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki yelled, taken off guard. "What's happening?"

The empath stepped back but otherwise stood his ground, his arm shielding his face against the buffeting winds. Nausea unfurled in his gut, and he began to tremble. He knew exactly what was happening.

_He's draining her_, he thought bleakly. Muraki was invoking the curse to sap her energy and funnel it back to him, depleting her life-force as surely as if he himself were sucking her dry.

It took less than a minute. As Hisoka felt the last traces of life leave her body, the magical winds abruptly ceased, her limp body collapsing back down to the mattress with a dull thump. The sound of objects falling reached his ears, many of her smaller possessions having been caught up in the miniature storm. The room was in shambles, the light flickering on and off as it threatened to fail entirely.

The barrier in the doorway shuddered, then suddenly blew outward, bombarding Tsuzuki with shards of dispersing power. He cried out in dismay, jumping backward and covering his face. Despite his reflexes, it was soon apparent that he was in no danger. The pieces of the shield dissolved into nothing, disappearing as harmlessly as the glowing, flyaway bits of ash from a campfire.

There was nothing between him and Hisoka anymore. As soon as he realized it, he rushed into the room, coming up behind him and gripping his shoulder. "Hisoka! Are you okay?"

Hisoka didn't respond. He was staring numbly at the girl on the bed, an almost indiscernible quiver in his body.

She was dead. She lay in an awkward position, exactly as she had fallen, her head lolling to one side toward the two shinigami. Her eyes were open, devoid of life, utterly flat and empty. It was the same blank stare her parents and her brother had. The curse marks were fading, having served their purpose. Soon they would be gone for good.

The younger shinigami suddenly dropped his head and turned away, jerking from Tsuzuki's touch with a shuddering breath that sounded almost like a sob. His trembling had gotten worse, and he staggered away from the bed, clutching his hair so tightly it was a wonder he didn't tear it from his scalp. His breathing was erratic, as if he were fighting back tears. A whine started low in his throat, slowly growing stronger until he was screaming his rage as loudly as he could, dropping to his knees and hunching over the floor. His hands came down from his hair to brace against the floor, curling into fists. He banged his right one down into the plush carpet, hitting so hard that the bones in his hand creaked, in danger of cracking. His scream tapered down until it was again a whine, genuine sobs wracking his slender body.

"Hisoka..." Tsuzuki whispered, turning away, unable to watch his partner break down. His eyes stung sharply, and he didn't even try to stop the tears as they slid over his chilled skin. His hands came up to his eyes, hiding his anguish from the world as he cried quietly.

After a moment, Hisoka jerked upright again, screaming his enemy's name to the heavens, all his anger and hatred contained in the soul-wrenching howl.

"_MURAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII____..._!"

**To be continued...**

**Author's Notes:** Wow. I never expected this story to reach twenty chapters. Now it has, and we still have a ways to go until the end. This is only the third story I've written to get this long. "Separate Destinies" in the _Kingdom Hearts_ section has twenty-two chapters, and "Love, Life, and Death" in the _Fushigi__ Yuugi_ section has a whopping thirty-two. (However, the chapters in "Love, Life, and Death" are much, _much_ shorter than in "Slow Mend," and the writing style is much less developed, as I wrote it almost a decade ago. It's kind of embarrassing to look back on it now. Eheh.) "My Immortal" in the Jhonen Vasquez section _almost_ got to twenty, having seventeen chapters and an epilogue.

My other fictions aside, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter like you've enjoyed the others. I don't have much to mention, except for the extent of Hisoka's curse marks. We've never seen them past his hips (that I'm aware of), so it's not clear if that's where they stop or if they go further down his legs. Most pieces of fanart and fanfiction that I've seen have depicted them as stopping at his hips, so that's where I've decided they stop in this story. However, it appears that Muraki has taken the curse to a whole new level where they cover the entire body, inflicting this new advanced version upon the poor, innocent foreign girl. Dun-dun-duuuuun...

Please leave a review telling me what you think. I do so love reading people's thoughts on my writings, especially an intense chapter like this one. I'm a feedback whore, I admit it.


	21. Shockwave

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks again to Tarmachan, Teldra, Riaries, fugu-chan, Vepirma, MyOpium, and an anonymous reviewer for reading and reviewing chapter twenty! Again, I'm so glad you guys are being so patient with me. I'd give you all hugs if I could.

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Twenty-One: Shockwave**

_BANG_

All occupants of the Enmachou library jumped at the sudden loud noise. A surprised "Oh!" came from an unidentified patron, and two administrative assistants dropped their books in alarm.

"Wh-what was that?" the younger Gushoushin screeched. He and his brother were seated next to each other on a table near the section on curses and hexes, the large book they had found on the floor open in front of them. They had called Konoe and Tatsumi to the library about the book seemingly jumping off the shelf, as well as the self-turning pages and the chapter they had opened to.

"I think I may know who that is," Tatsumi answered calmly, absently adjusting his glasses on his nose. He turned from where he stood next to the table and took a few steps to the end of the nearest bookshelf, where he had a clear line of sight to the library entrance. "Kurosaki-kun, quiet in the library, please."

"Hi-Hi-Hisoka-san!" the Gushoushin squeaked almost in unison, bolting up from the table and hurrying to Tatsumi's side.

There, indeed, stood Hisoka. He had apparently come flying into the room at breakneck speed, as both doors were still wobbling slightly from having been banged against the neighboring wall. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his expression one of rage, and his hair stuck up in all directions. Drying smears of blood stained his clothes, hair, and face, which only added to his wild appearance. Lastly, he was breathing hard, and it was difficult to tell how much of it was from his haste and how much was from anger.

Hisoka suddenly sprinted across the library, coming straight for Tatsumi and the Gushoushin. Before they could react, however, he flew right by them, and was just about to disappear into the curses section when he screeched to a halt by the table they had been gathered around.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Konoe said in surprise, startled by Hisoka's sudden appearance, not to mention by his disheveled state. He was still sitting at the table, about ninety degrees around from where the Gushoushin had been.

"Kurosaki-kun, what's gotten into you?" Tatsumi demanded, coming back toward the table. He stopped when he saw where Hisoka was looking.

The young shinigami was staring at the book that they had been looking at, horror and dread now mixed with the rage on his face. Along with his bloodshot eyes, faint markings ran down his cheeks. Tatsumi recognized them immediately as dried tear tracks. Hisoka had been crying recently.

Hisoka all but launched himself at the book after moment, snatching it up from the table and gripping it tightly, his hands shaking visibly. It was open to the diagram of the curse marks, which was now two diagrams, one on each page. The original one, which showed the extent of the markings on Hisoka, was on the right page, while a new one, which had an illustration of much more widespread markings, was on the left page.

The empath stared at the diagrams, eyes darting back and forth between them. In the upper corner of the original picture, the one he had seen when researching his curse over a year ago, were the words _mark 1_. In the corresponding corner of the new picture, which he immediately knew showed the markings he had seen appear on the young girl, were the words _mark 2_. Now two different levels of the curse were being documented, and he knew without a doubt that the parts of the chapter concerning this "mark 2" had appeared in the book much more recently than the parts dealing with "mark 1," if for no other reason than they hadn't been there when he had been researching his curse.

Slowly, fingers trembling, he turned the page to the text of the chapter. His eyes moved quickly over the words, jumping from one paragraph to another.

Tsuzuki suddenly appeared around the corner, having entered the library in a much quieter manner than Hisoka. Tatsumi turned his gaze to Tsuzuki when he realized he was there, the Gushoushin quickly parting and moving away to make room for the senior shinigami.

Tsuzuki made no noise, his gaze downcast. His cheeks were slightly red, and it looked like he had recently been crying, as well.

A sudden hiss from Hisoka brought everyone's attention back to him. Now he was trembling all over, his hold on the book tightening with every passing moment.

"The second incarnation of the curse," he read aloud, "designated hereafter as _mark 2_, was developed by a Tokyo-born sorcerer and refined over time by experimentation on a succession of victims." He clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing. "The perfected version was inflicted on the fourteen-year-old daughter of an American businessman living in Nagasaki—!" Here he stopped abruptly, flinging the book away from him with an enraged snarl. Absolute fury burned in his eyes, his hands coming up to tear at his hair. "Fourteen years old! She was just _fourteen years old!_"

Those around him didn't move, their faces showing varying degrees of confusion and horror. Tsuzuki squeezed his eyes shut, breathing a single word under his breath. "Muraki…"

The older Gushoushin squawked as the old book bounced across the floor, cover and pages flapping wildly. It landed with the inside of the front cover against the ground, the back cover lying over it, the spinal creases turned the opposite direction they were meant for. Pages were bent here and there, angry folds appearing where the book's weight had forced the paper to buckle as it skipped across the carpet.

The little bird-like spirit went after the book. He and his brother had been watching the youngest shinigami, paralyzed in fear and bewilderment, unsure of how to react. The book being thrown called up his librarian's habits, however, and he snapped into them, a comforting piece of familiarity. "Hisoka-san, please be careful with the books—!"

"_I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE GODS-DAMNED BOOKS!_" Hisoka exploded. Spiritual energy erupted from him, blowing everyone and everything around him back at least a foot. The table splintered instantly, and the chief yelped in surprise, propelling himself back out of harm's way. It was only through luck that he didn't end up with jagged bits of wood lodged in him, like Hisoka had that one time.

"_Hisoka!_" Tsuzuki cried, recovering from the spiritual shockwave before the others. He leaped forward and wrapped his arms around Hisoka tightly, pinning his arms to his torso, hoping it would stop further eruptions from the empath. Hisoka's shoulder blades were against his chest, and he could feel the boy's ragged, uneven breathing.

"I'll kill him…" Hisoka rasped, his fingers flexing into claws, as if to strangle somebody. "_I'll kill him!_" Angry tears ran down from his eyes, a sob forcing its way from his throat.

"Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi said, placing a hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder, "take Kurosaki-kun away from here. He'll hurt himself or someone else if he stays like this."

"R-right," Tsuzuki stammered. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if to hold in his own tears. "I'm so sorry, you guys." With that, he and Hisoka disappeared, the older shinigami translocating them out of the library, hopefully to a place where Hisoka could calm down.

Tatsumi, Konoe, and the Gushoushin were left there, all of them wondering what could have happened to make Hisoka lose his composure so thoroughly. For a moment, none of them moved, unable to fully process what they had just seen. No one could remember Hisoka ever losing his temper to such a degree, and witnessing the empath succumbing so dramatically to rage left them all stunned.

It was Tatsumi who left first, an indecipherable expression on his angular face. Konoe soon followed, leaving the Gushoushin alone. There didn't appear to be anyone in the library anymore, everyone seemingly frightened away by Hisoka's outburst. Not that the Gushoushin blamed any of them. The self-preservation instinct was a powerful impulse, indeed.

After several moments of floating there silently, the two chicken-like librarians sighed at the same time. They may as well get started on picking things up. This mess wasn't going to clean itself, after all.

* * *

Sometime later, Hisoka and Tsuzuki were seated in Tatsumi's office, their chairs facing the desk, where the bespectacled secretary sat. Hisoka's head was hanging low, his face hidden by the angle and his hair. His shoulders were slumped, though he was no longer trembling, and his breathing was quiet and even again. A mug was clasped in his hands, the soothing scent of chamomile tea rising from it. Hisoka had drunk most of the mug's contents, leaving only a few gulps left in the bottom. The tea's anti-stress properties seemed to be working, or perhaps Hisoka had just worn himself out. Either way, it was better than the screaming, table-exploding Hisoka from the library.

Tsuzuki was next to him, his posture not as bent. He was also gazing downward, but his face was visible, a look of exhaustion gracing his features. There was a noticeable tightness around his eyes, fine lines appearing in the thin skin there, making him look several years older. His face was pale, and he seemed in dire need of sleep. Tatsumi had the brief, irrational desire to send him straight to bed with a teddy bear and a glass of warm milk.

"So," Tatsumi said, finally breaking the silence, "tell me what happened." He had been watching the two shinigami across from him for a long time while Hisoka sipped his tea, taking in every detail of their demeanors. Now that the emotional turmoil from earlier seemed to be over, he felt it was time to get to the bottom of things.

"Well…we investigated the aura that was manifesting in Nagasaki, like you sent us to," Tsuzuki said slowly. If it hadn't been otherwise silent in the office, Tatsumi would never have heard him.

Tatsumi nodded, letting him speak at his own pace.

"Hisoka traced it to a cul-de-sac in a residential neighborhood," Tsuzuki continued. "It was coming from the house at the very end. Neither of us could tell what was causing the aura, so there wasn't much in the way of preparations we could make. Just your normal defenses, really." He paused a moment before speaking again. "When we got right up to the house, though, Hisoka started having a fit, like someone was attacking him." He swallowed audibly. "And then he said…Muraki was in the house."

"I see," Tatsumi said slowly. He, though he had much less personal experience with Muraki than Hisoka and Tsuzuki, felt his hackles rise at the mention of the doctor's name. The silver-haired man was, he knew, a source of much pain and anguish for his former lover, and he was just as much if not even more so for Hisoka. He had tormented Hisoka for years, and had relentlessly stalked and harassed Tsuzuki for as long as Hisoka had been his partner, driving him so far over the edge that he had tried to destroy his own immortal soul to escape the pain. Tatsumi hated Muraki for all he'd done, and the only thing keeping him from hunting the surgeon down and slaughtering him was the acknowledgement that that task fell to Hisoka and Tsuzuki, not him. The right to kill Muraki was theirs and only theirs, and it wasn't his place to take that away from them.

"We went inside," Tsuzuki went on, "and…there was blood everywhere. A husband and wife were butchered in the living room. There was no way they were still alive. We found their son upstairs…he was dead, too. A-and then, Hisoka was drawn to a closed door…it was their daughter's bedroom."

Hisoka made a sudden sound, like a sharp exhale. The younger shinigami cleared his throat and swallowed, raising his head. He set his mug on the edge of Tatsumi's desk. When he began to speak, his voice was scratchy and uneven.

"I-I thought Muraki was in there," he began, his eyes dull and unfocused. "That's where they aura was coming from. But when I opened the door, he wasn't there. Even the aura had stopped. It just…stopped." He was now wringing his hands, which were again trembling. "I-I thought the room was empty…but then I noticed the girl on the bed. She was beaten so badly, but she was alive. Just barely alive. She had been—!" He dropped his head into his hands, which curled into fists over his eyes. "He raped her in her own bed! That bastard _raped her in her own bed!_" He clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to cry.

Tsuzuki reached over and put a hand on Hisoka's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. Or at least he hoped it was a comforting gesture.

"I'd wrapped her in a bathrobe," Hisoka continued, "and we were going to bring her back to Meifu with us. She needed protection. But then, Muraki…wherever he was, he activated the curse…it was the same curse he'd put on me. B-but the markings spread further than they do on me. They covered her head, her arms, her legs…they were everywhere! And then…then he drained her…right in front of us, he drained her of every last drop of her life…!" A single tear escaped his tight control, sliding over his chilled skin. "It was the first time…the first time I'd seen him actually _kill_ someone…since the night I met him." Muraki had been responsible for countless deaths, but the only person Hisoka had personally seen him kill had been the unnamed woman in the sakura grove near his childhood home. The Caucasian girl in Nagasaki had been the first since then, and it shook him to the core.

"That's when you two returned to Meifu?" Tatsumi questioned after it was apparent that Hisoka was finished talking. When both Hisoka and Tsuzuki nodded, he spoke again, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "That's why you came charging into the library," he said. "You wanted to see that book. You wanted to see the new developments in the curse Muraki has inflicted upon you."

Hisoka nodded again. "Yeah." He raised his head again, his eyes still flat and lifeless. "Those murders we've been investigating for over a year…he's responsible for all of them. And he didn't kill them just to get us involved. They were his lab rats! He used them in his experiments to further develop the curse! Who's to say what tortures he put them through?" The traces of dark magic and evidence of sexual assault weren't just coincidence. They were the remnants of Muraki's efforts to enhance the power of the vicious curse he seemed so fond of, bringing its sadistic control over its victims to a whole new level. The girl in Nagasaki was the unfortunate innocent chosen to showcase the fruits of his labor, her entire family being sacrificed in the process.

"I just don't get it," Hisoka continued, looking at his hands, confusion filling his eyes. "What does he mean to do with it? Does he want to inflict this new curse on me? On Tsuzuki? Both of us? Or does he just want to show us how powerful he is? Is he just doing this to intimidate us? Does he hope we'll submit to him? I can't figure any of this out!"

"It's Muraki," Tsuzuki said quietly. "You can't explain his insanity. You can't even try to. I don't think even he fully knows what drives him anymore."

"I…I guess." Hisoka leaned back, his gaze traveling to the ceiling. "I can't help but think…this is all our fault. All _my_ fault. We've always fought against him. We've always rejected his advances, always resisted his efforts of 'court' us. And then he had Tsuzuki within his grasp in Kyoto…and we still fought him. He still came out of it empty-handed." He looked back down, staring at the mug on Tatsumi's desk. "Is this his revenge on us? Is he doing all this, killing all these people, just to torment us? Is there no other goal in all this? Is making us suffer his only objective?"

Tsuzuki looked down, his eyes haunted.

"Do _not_ blame yourself, Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi cut in. "_Nothing_ that madman does is your fault. He is the _only one_ responsible for his actions. If this is his way of getting revenge, then it's only a testament to how disturbed he is. Don't think that things would be better if you hadn't fought against him. You would simply be his slave, and he likely would have harmed just as many people."

Hisoka didn't answer immediately. He just kept looking in the direction of the mug, eventually nodding almost imperceptibly.

"There's one more thing," Tsuzuki said slowly after a moment of silence. "That girl…she looked so much like Hisoka. She was about the same size, had the same facial and body structure. Her hair and eyes…they weren't a perfect match, but they were close. Different shades of blonde and green, that's all. You couldn't miss the resemblance. I can't help but think that if Hisoka were a white girl, that's what he'd look like." He looked at Hisoka, then Tatsumi. "It can't be a coincidence. Muraki had to have chosen her on purpose."

"Do you suppose he was sending you a message?" Tatsumi asked. He looked troubled by this revelation. Such a close resemblance couldn't have been a coincidence, as Tsuzuki said. It would be just like Muraki to choose a certain victim just to convey some sort of message.

"Maybe he's saying…that I'm next." Hisoka's voice was ominous, chillingly calm. He didn't react when both Tatsumi and Tsuzuki looked at him, worry and dread flowing from them. "I almost hope that's true," Hisoka whispered. "I almost _want_ him to come after me. It would finally give me a chance to get my hands on that bastard." He finished with his teeth clenched, his hands curling into fists.

"Don't say that, Hisoka," Tsuzuki begged. "It would kill me if he…_attacked_ you again!" He seemed unwilling to use the word _rape_. It was as if saying the word made the possibility even more real.

"_He already has, Asato!_" Hisoka burst out. "You remember the night of our first date? That was no dream! He entered my mind and raped me just like he did in the waking world when I was thirteen! He may as well have come into my room and _done it in my own bed!_"

He froze, his face turning bright red. He had just remembered that they had an audience. He had told no one but Tsuzuki about the nightmare, and had intended to keep it that way, but now he had blurted it out in front of Tatsumi as if everyone knew. He felt slightly ill.

"I-I'm sorry, Tatsumi-san," he managed to stammer, turning to face the secretary, who was looking at him with a shocked expression. "I didn't mean to say something so personal in front of you. Please forgive me."

"It…it's okay, Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi replied, hiding behind his hand as he pretended to adjust his glasses. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He glanced at Tsuzuki, who was looking anywhere but at the two of them. He, too, was embarrassed by Hisoka's outburst, though Tatsumi suspected that most of that embarrassment was on Hisoka's behalf, not on his own.

An awkward silence descended upon them. One could practically hear the sakura petals falling outside.

"Are…are we dismissed?" Tsuzuki finally asked, his voice timid.

"Yes, of course," Tatsumi said. "Both of you, go home. You need rest and time to think. Take tomorrow off, as well. I will let Konoe-kachou know that I've authorized a day off for you two. If he doesn't understand, it'll be his problem."

"Thank you, Tatsumi," Tsuzuki said as he and Hisoka stood. He put an arm around his partner. "C'mon, Hisoka. I'll see you home, and make sure you're settled in before I leave."

"Thanks, Asato," Hisoka muttered, his eyes hidden by his hair. "I'd really appreciate that."

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** I apologize for the short chapter. Well, I wouldn't say it's _short_, but it's shorter than most chapters in this story. Not every chapter can be long, though. I hope no one's disappointed.

I really, _really_ need to start writing more often. I've been working on this story for over two and a half years now, longer than I've ever worked on a story before. I should work on getting it finished, if only to stop leaving its readers hanging. For someone who supposedly loves to write, I don't really show it. (I've written a few _Bleach_ one-shots since I posted chapter twenty, though, so if you're a _Bleach_ fan, go check them out. One is on Adult Fanfiction dot net.) I need someone to bug me to write more often. Any volunteers?

Please leave a review telling me what you think. My addiction to feedback is severe indeed.


	22. Hanakotoba

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Many thanks to Galenchia, spiritmind675, LillianeDeMalvrier, Tarmachan, fugu-chan, Kurenai Tenka, Vepirma, and walkerminion for reading and reviewing chapter twenty-one! Again, I greatly appreciate your patience with me. A shout-out goes to Galenchia for leaving the 150th review! W00!

**Slow Mend  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Twenty-Two: Hanakotoba**

"I'm here for my lessons, Sakihana-sensei."

Sakihana Kiyoko looked up from the letter she was writing. Her current student, Kurosaki Hisoka, stood in the doorway to her study, waiting patiently for her to finish what she was doing. When their eyes met, the boy bowed low, showing his respect for his teacher.

"Kurosaki-kun," she said with a smile. "You're a little early today."

"I hope I haven't interrupted anything," Hisoka apologized. He straightened up, though he kept his eyes on the floor. Staring boldly was inappropriate behavior, especially with a teacher. The traditional manners ingrained upon him in his childhood came out in force when in Sakihana's presence. Her stately demeanor and noble appearance had that effect on him.

"Oh, of course not," Sakihana said, standing up from the low writing table. "You know I look forward to our lessons together. It's a pleasure to teach such a gifted student."

Hisoka felt his cheeks redden slightly at her words. To have such a powerful, not to mention lovely, healer praise him like this made him feel a little awkward. He suspected he might have a bit of a schoolboy crush on her. Not that he'd ever admit to it. Thankfully, Sakihana either didn't notice his blush or chose not to call attention to it.

Instead, she made note of something else he wasn't too keen on discussing.

"You look unhappy, Kurosaki-kun. Are you feeling all right?"

Hisoka was silent for a moment. He wasn't sure how he should respond. Lying was out of the question, as she'd know immediately that he wasn't telling the truth, but he didn't know how much he was willing to reveal, either. She was his teacher, so it wasn't like she was some stranger, but it wouldn't be right to lay all his troubles on her. She was his teacher, not his sounding board.

"Come, there's hot tea in the kettle," she said when he didn't answer. "Let's have some, shall we?"

"Yes, sensei," Hisoka nodded, thankful for the distraction. He stepped aside to let her through the door, then followed her through the hallways to the dining room. Neither spoke as they walked, the only sounds being those of their footsteps and the occasional bird call from outside.

After directing him to sit at the low table, Sakihana went into the adjacent kitchen where the tea kettle sat on the stove, gentle puffs of steam coming from its spout. Retrieving two traditional teacups from the dish cabinet, she poured the hot, dark brown liquid into each, careful to keep her hands from being scalded by the steam. She had prepared black tea today, different from her usual green tea, and she made sure to let him know.

"Would you like anything added to your tea?" she then asked. Black tea was stronger than green tea, and not everyone liked to drink it plain.

"No, thank you, sensei," he replied. His hands were folded in his lap, and he was staring at the tabletop as if it were the most interesting thing he had seen all day. There was definitely something weighing heavily on his mind.

Hisoka thanked her when she set a cup in front of him, but didn't immediately pick it up. Instead, he stared at it like he had been staring at the table, his gaze unfocused and far-off.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" she asked, taking a seat across from him.

Hisoka sighed after a moment, closing his eyes. "I've…just had a lot of my plate lately. So many things have happened, and I wish they hadn't."

"I see," Sakihana nodded, taking a sip of her tea. When she put the cup down again, she looked him straight in the eye, conveying her seriousness. "I want you to know that I have an open ear in case you need someone to talk to. But, if you do choose to talk to me, don't feel compelled to discuss anything you would rather keep private. I wouldn't want you to reveal any more than what you're comfortable with."

"Thank you, sensei," Hisoka said quietly. "I'm…I'm grateful to hear that."

They were silent for a few moments, Hisoka continuing to stare at his tea and Sakihana taking occasional sips of hers.

"Muraki," Hisoka said at length, his voice little more than a whisper. "He's come back…and it's even worse than before. He's hurt so many people, done so many awful things…he's been _taunting_ Tsuzuki and me. He knows just how to hurt us the most…!" He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. "I-I'm sorry. I won't say anymore. It makes me _sick_ just thinking about it."

"I understand," Sakihana said gently. "Don't think of him right now. Just relax." Though she was vague on the details, she knew that a man named Muraki Kazutaka had caused her student and his partner much pain and anguish, as well as inflicted suffering on countless living humans. Watching Hisoka struggling not to break down at the mere thought of him was heart-wrenching. She knew it wasn't her business to get involved, but she couldn't help feeling a spike of indignation and anger that a person could be so cruel and heartless.

"I'm convinced that he's my nemesis," Hisoka continued after a moment. "I'll never be able to rest until he's dead. There are so many ways I want to kill him, each more painful and bloody than the last!" His hands had curled into fists in his lap, and he was shaking slightly.

"You have Tsuzuki-san, do you not?" she asked after a pause. "He loves you dearly. Surely he is some comfort to you?"

"H-he is," Hisoka sniffed, wiping a tear away. "I thank the gods every day that he's there for me. I don't think I'd be able to cope if he wasn't."

Sakihana smiled. "He is a special person, isn't he?"

"Yes," he nodded. "He's very special to me. I love him more than anything. I feel like I don't deserve someone as warm and kind as him, but he never fails to let me know that it's not a matter of what I 'deserve,' but what he wants to give me." His cheeks reddened again. He didn't normally discuss his relationship with Tsuzuki with others, as he was a private person by nature. Sakihana, though, he could trust to be discreet. He knew that whatever he confessed to her would never leave this room, and he was glad of that.

"I am not very well informed of your situation with Muraki," she said, "so I shall not presume to give advice on it. However, I will say that what you and Tsuzuki-san have between you is a very precious thing. You are stronger together than either of you could ever hope to be alone. Support each other, no matter what happens. You will pull each other through in the end, I am sure of it."

Hisoka felt a smile tug at his lips. "Thank you, sensei," he said quietly. "It…it means a lot to me to have you say that." He looked up, finally taking his gaze off of his tea. "Tsuzuki is the strongest support I have. I have complete faith in him."

"Good," Sakihana said with a gratified smile. She took another sip of her tea. "Before we start with your lesson today, I have some information that may cheer you up."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You remember confiding in me about your sister?" When Hisoka nodded, she continued. "I sincerely hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of asking Hakushaku if he knew anything about her."

"You did?" Hisoka's eyes were wide, suddenly very interested. "What did he say?"

"It took some convincing to get him to give me any information," she replied. "He wouldn't give me her name or age or where she lives, but he finally told me that she has been reborn into a loving family. She is very happy in her new life."

Hisoka looked at her for a moment, not saying anything, and then dropped his gaze to his teacup again. "You're serious?" he asked softly. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I am very serious," she said. "You can rest assured that she is well taken care of, and has gotten a wonderful start this time around."

The empath continued staring at the teacup, then closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Thank you, sensei," he whispered. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that."

"I am glad I could be the one to tell you," Sakihana said, smiling sympathetically. "Forgive me if I have intruded upon your privacy in any way."

"No…no, don't worry about it," Hisoka said, shaking his head. "I've wanted to know for a long time, but I never would have tried to find out myself. I was too afraid I'd find out something bad." He bowed as well as he could while sitting at a table. "Thank you, sensei."

"You are welcome," she said, bowing back.

Hisoka finally picked up his tea and took a sip. He made a slight face as he set the cup back down.

"Y'know, this tea _is_ a little strong…"

* * *

"Hello there, Neesama," Hisoka said, looking down at his sister's grave marker. It was late at night, stars twinkling in the black sky high above the cemetery in the corner of his family's estate. He tilted his head, a thoughtful look on his face. "I suppose, if what sensei says is true, you aren't really there to hear me, but hello all the same."

He set the small lantern he had brought with him on the ground, then knelt down. In his other hand he held a small bouquet of purple irises, which he laid gently upon the grave's stone covering. Last time he had brought her lilies, symbols of innocence; now he brought her irises, symbols of happy news. If she had indeed been reborn into a loving family, then all he had every wished for her had come true. He was immensely relieved to hear of her second chance. She had been killed before her life even had a chance to begin, but now she had been given back all that had been stolen from her. Hisoka could not put into words how happy he was for her.

Reaching into an inside pocket in his jacket, he produced a stick of incense and a burner designed told hold the incense vertically, as was proper for an offering to the dead. He placed the burner near the flowers, then extracted a book of matches from the same pocket, striking a match and lighting the incense. Blowing out the flame, he placed the stick into the burner, wispy smoke starting to curl upward from it.

"I guess I can't pray to you yourself if you've been reborn," he said, returning the matchbook to his pocket, "but I can pray to the gods to watch over you." Settling down, he brought his hands up in front of him and clasped them together, closing his eyes to pray. The scent of the incense filled the air around him.

For a short while he sat there in silence, his lips moving soundlessly along with the prayer that ran through his head, imploring the blessed Amaterasu and her fellow gods and goddesses to watch over his sister and namesake. Wherever she was, he wanted nothing but peace and happiness for her.

After several moments, Hisoka's eyes popped open, and he straightened up with a gasp. Someone was coming closer. He could feel their presence approaching from the direction of the main house. It was a presence he knew very well.

He stood just as the shine of a lantern came around the corner, lighting up the cemetery from the entrance, long shadows springing up and leaning away from the illumination. Hisoka's own shadow fell upon his sister's grave, stark black in the yellowish light.

The newcomer didn't say anything. They seemed to be waiting for Hisoka to make a move.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Hisoka slowly turned around. It took a moment and a lot of blinking to get used to the light, but once his eyes were adjusted, he was able to discern the unmistakable outline of Kurosaki Nagare standing just inside the cemetery gate.

"Tousama," he said softly. He wasn't sure if his father heard him or not, as the man made no reply.

For a moment they just stared at each other. It was difficult to make out Nagare's facial expression through the light of his lantern, but Hisoka thought he saw a neutral look, one of neither pleasure nor displeasure at seeing his dead son again. His empathy revealed little else, as his father's emotions were calm, almost flat. He supposed that was a good sign. Nagare could very well have reacted with anger or fear; no reaction was better than a bad reaction, Hisoka figured.

"Hisoka-neesama," the shinigami finally said, loud enough that he knew his father heard. "She's doing all right."

Nagare stood there a moment longer, then turned back the way he had come, dipping his head down as he did so. The gesture could have been a nod or even an abbreviated bow of thanks. He retreated back toward the house, the light of his lantern disappearing around the corner and dousing the cemetery in darkness once again. Only the small circle illuminated by Hisoka's small lantern remained lit up.

Hisoka sighed, his shoulders slumping. That went as well as he could have hoped. Even though Nagare knew his son still walked the Earth as a shinigami, he could have been greatly displeased to find him once again lurking about the family cemetery. His lack of reaction suggested that he may have suspected he would see the boy again, or maybe even expected to.

"Don't get used to it," he muttered. "I don't plan on making a habit out of this." His childhood home held nothing but bad memories for him, and the only reason he came back again was to visit his sister's grave. He highly doubted he would be coming anymore after this. He was planning on making a small shrine to her in his apartment, like Tsuzuki had done for Ruka, and paying his respects to her there. It was a much better option than coming to this accursed place whenever he wanted to honor her.

"I suppose I should go now, Neesama," he said to the grave marker. The incense still smoldered, its ethereal smoke disappearing into the darkness almost as soon as it came off the ember. He put his hand on the tall, narrow stone. "Best of luck. I love you."

He bent down and picked up the lantern, the small electric bulb inside throwing a white light on the stone markers around him. Looking at the irises and incense he had left on his sister's grave one last time, he prepared to translocate from the living world back to Meifu. He glanced idly over at his own grave a few places away—

—and abruptly stopped. There was something there.

Hisoka turned toward his grave, dispersing the power he had gathered to translocate between worlds. Something was lying on the stone that covered his body's final resting place, but the darkness prevented him from identifying what it was. He squint his eyes and raised the lantern above his head, widening the circle of its light. It was something irregularly shaped, and he thought he saw a flash of pinkish red, but otherwise he still couldn't tell what it was.

Curious, he came closer. What he saw made his eyes widen and his jaw drop.

A bouquet of red spider lilies lay there, tied with a blue ribbon. Next to it was an incense burner with the stub of a recently burned stick of incense still in it.

Hisoka stared at the objects on his grave, not quite able to process that they were there. He looked over at his sister's grave, then back down at his own. With the flowers and the incense, they were almost mirror images of each other now.

Crouching down, he took a long, hard look at the incense burner. It was made of white porcelain, decorated with red and purple flowers, the Kurosaki family crest painted in vivid blue every ninety degrees around the hole for the stick. Thin black strokes outlined the designs and gave them detail, gold accents crowning the tips of the petals.

It was one of the heirloom incense burners from the main house. This piece of porcelain was older than his great-grandfather's great-grandfather, and whenever it and those like it were not being used in the family shrines in times of worship and prayer, they were locked up in a valuables cabinet that only his father had the key to. It was definitely a family member who had brought it out here. It had to be.

Was it really his father? It couldn't have been his mother; she hated everything about him. He couldn't imagine his father giving his uncle access to the valuables cabinet, as he had every reason to distrust his older brother, and with good cause.

There was no one else it could be. It had to be Nagare.

Hisoka felt his eyes sting. His father, his whole family, had never shown him respect or love in any form. And yet, his father had taken the time out of his day to visit his son's grave and leave an offering of flowers and incense. This gesture was more than he had ever received from his family in his entire life, and was more than he had ever come to hope for from them. It was a simple thing, really, but so powerful at the same time.

He was finally being recognized as a member of the family, one who was worthy of remembrance, instead of the freakish little monster he had always been accused of being. A tightness built up in his chest, his breath exiting in a choked rush. He was deeply touched.

He knelt there, crying quietly, warm tears flowing down his pale cheeks. It was all he could do to keep from sobbing outright.

Up at the main house, Nagare stepped up onto the covered porch. He paused, then looked back toward the cemetery in the corner of the property. After gazing into the darkness for a few moments, he turned back toward the house and entered, sliding the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Do you feel guilty?"

Hisoka looked up from the book he was reading, his gaze meeting Tsuzuki's. He was sitting on a couch in a back corner of the Enmachou library, and it was likely his partner hadn't had any trouble finding him. If you wanted to find Hisoka, the library was one of the first places to look.

"What, about the family in Nagasaki?" Hisoka questioned. When Tsuzuki nodded, he sighed. "What a silly question, Asato. I told you when we were talking to Tatsumi-san, remember?"

"Hisoka…" the older shinigami said, his tone indicating he wasn't impressed with Hisoka's response.

The empath sighed again, marking his place in the book and putting it aside. "Yes and no," he said, looking at his lap. "One part of me tells me that I can't be responsible for what a madman does, and yet the other part of me keeps insisting that, if it weren't for me, those people wouldn't have been hurt." The skin around his eyes tightened. "That girl would never have suffered like she did. It's…it's a terrible feeling to have."

"I understand," Tsuzuki nodded, taking a seat next to him. "I've been feeling pretty much the same. It's hard to look at things rationally when emotionally you're a mess. Muraki…is _really good_ at doing that to a person, isn't he?"

"Better than anyone," Hisoka agreed. He lowered his head, his hand coming up to shield his eyes. "I don't really want to talk about this, Asato. Not right now."

"Okay," Tsuzuki said. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Hisoka shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Tsuzuki staring at the bookcase across from them, Hisoka continuing to hide his gaze.

Finally, Hisoka sat up again. "My teacher gave me some very interesting information," he said at length. "It was about my sister."

"What was it?" Tsuzuki asked, looking over at him. _That_ had certainly caught his attention.

"She said she'd managed to get Hakushaku to tell her that my sister has been reborn into a loving family, and that she's happy in her new life."

"Really?" Tsuzuki said, turning completely toward him. "That's great!"

"Yeah, it is," Hisoka nodded, a subtle smile on his lips. "I couldn't ask for anything more for her." He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "I visited the cemetery on my family's estate," he continued. "I brought her flowers, and prayed to the gods to watch over her. It'll be the last time I go there, I think. I'm planning on taking your suggestion and making a shrine to her in my apartment, like you've done for your sister. It would be so much better for me than going to Kamakura to pay my respects." He looked down again. "There are just too many bad memories for me there. I don't want to go back there anymore."

"That's totally understandable," Tsuzuki said. "Neesan is buried in our hometown, of course, but I haven't been back there in I don't know how long. It's just too painful to go back to that place, even to visit her. I know she understands, and I'm sure your sister will, too."

Hisoka nodded again. "Yeah…"

Tsuzuki tilted his head slightly, watching his partner. "You look like you have more to say, Hisoka. Is everything all right?"

The empath didn't answer for a long moment. When he did, he spoke quietly. "I was just about to leave…and then I noticed that someone had visited my own grave. There were fresh spider lilies left there, and someone had recently burned funerary incense. The…the incense burner…it belonged to my father. Only he could have been the one to use it."

Tsuzuki listened silently, letting Hisoka speak.

"I just…sat there crying when I saw," Hisoka continued. "I couldn't do anything else. Just the thought of one of my relatives actually treating me like a human being…"

"…was more than what you ever could have expected from them," Tsuzuki finished. "I know, Hisoka. I know exactly what you mean."

Hisoka rubbed at his cheeks, a few tears having escaped to roll down to his chin. "I can't even begin forgive my father for what he did to me, for what he let my mother do to me," he managed after a moment. "I _can't_ forgive him for that. Some things just can't be 'gotten over.' But…I'm touched by his gesture. Very, very much so. I never would have expected him to do anything like that, not in a million years."

"You know he feels regret for what happened to you," Tsuzuki reminded him, "and what happened to your sister. But whether you choose to forgive him or not is entirely up to you, Hisoka. Only you can make that call. I agree with you that feeling regret after the fact doesn't necessarily mean a person deserves forgiveness. Whatever you end up deciding, I'll back you up all the way."

"Thank you, Asato," Hisoka said softly. "That means a lot to me."

"Glad to hear it," Tsuzuki grinned before standing up from the couch. "Now come on, Hisoka, let's go out for ice cream. You need something to cheer you up. My treat!"

Hisoka almost laughed. Trust Tsuzuki to propose a trip to an ice cream parlor as a way to lighten the mood. He couldn't begrudge the older shinigami his suggestion, though. He _did_ need cheering up, and ice cream sounded like a good way to do it.

"All right, Asato," he replied with a smile. "I'd love to."

* * *

Hisoka entered his apartment with a yawn. Closing and locking the door behind him, he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. He bent down to remove his shoes, and upon standing again, he reached up above his head and arched backwards, stretching his whole body. His back popped as his vertebrae realigned themselves.

It was getting late, and he was glad to be home. Tsuzuki had taken him to a build-your-own-sundae place, which served its customers a dish of their preferred ice cream, then let them add the garnishings to their own preference at a buffet-like toppings bar. Tsuzuki had chosen chocolate ice cream, and then proceeded to pile on the toppings to the point were there seemed to be more add-ons than actual ice cream. Hisoka eventually lost track of what all he had put on his sundae. The empath, as usual, had taken the less gluttonous route, picking vanilla ice cream and then topping it with chocolate sauce, rainbow sprinkles, crushed peanuts, and a maraschino cherry. If Tsuzuki wanted to be up all night on a sugar high, that was his problem.

As irritated as he was with the man's insatiable appetite for sweets, he really was grateful to Tsuzuki. It was touching how he tried to help Hisoka through his pain. He knew Tsuzuki understood perfectly what he was feeling, as he himself had endured indescribable torment at the hands of his own family. The recent trauma in Nagasaki had hit Tsuzuki almost as hard as it hit Hisoka, and there was no one else who could sympathize with him as well as the amethyst-eyed shinigami could. Though they often seemed superficial, such as going out for ice cream, Tsuzuki's efforts to make him feel better were invaluable to him. As he had told his teacher, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to cope if Tsuzuki wasn't there for him.

_I'm just gonna go to bed_, he thought, walking toward his bedroom. He didn't usually go to bed until closer to midnight, but tonight seemed like a good night to turn in early. He still felt vulnerable from the incident in Nagasaki, and resting as much as possible would go a long way in helping him recover.

He had just crossed the threshold into his bedroom when it happened.

An agonizing pain exploded in his head, like a bullet piercing his forehead and blowing its way out the back of his skull. He collapsed to the floor with a strangled cry, clutching at his head, his fingers fisting in his hair. He lay there, gasping and shaking, his eyes wide in shock and confusion.

_Wh-what…?_ he managed to think through the hammer-like throbbing. _What's happening?_ He clenched his teeth tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears were threatening to fall, the pain was so bad.

A voice resounded in his head, making his blood turn to ice. A scream swelled in his chest and throat, and it was all he could do to keep it from tearing itself loose.

_Hello, my lovely little doll_, the voice said smoothly, chipping away at Hisoka's sanity. _Have you missed me?_

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Blerg. It took me all day to write this. I just cannot write things quickly. I always have to pause every few sentences and reread what I just wrote. My own brand of quality assurance, I guess. If I don't like how something flows, I'll go back immediately and change it. And then once I'm done, I reread through the whole thing to edit it and give it its final form. I suppose that could be why I don't update as often as I'd like to. Putting a chapter out takes a lot of time and effort on my part. That, or I'm just lazy. Meh.

As always, please leave a review. I realize that the scenes seemed to end rather abruptly, but I didn't know how else to end them without dragging them out much longer than I'd like. Sorry if I've disappointed you guys. I have no excuses.

And, like I said at the end of the last chapter, if you're a _Bleach_ fan, please go check out my _Bleach_ fanfics. It's the newest fandom I've ventured into, and I'd love to hear what you guys think of my attempts to write for it. The characters I've centered my stories around so far are Yumichika and Ikkaku, so if you're a fan of either, do go and take a look. I would be ever so appreciative.

P.S. "Hanakotoba" means "language of flowers" in Japanese. Almost every flower has some kind of meaning in both the East and the West, some meanings differing between the two regions. In Japan, white lilies mean innocence, purple irises mean good news, and red spider lilies mean "never to be seen again," and are often placed on graves. In a dream in the Gensoukai arc, Hisoka sees his father holding a spider lily and calls it "shibitobana," or "flower of the dead." I guess we could call that your language lesson for the day.


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